What should have been a peaceful slumber for the sole occupant of the mountain was suddenly, and somewhat rudely, disturbed by tremors that shook his home to its very foundations. The brief rumbling of earth and stone was enough to jolt him out of rest and into an alerted state that left him running through rigorous calculations in his head; Was the exit blocked, could he make it to the exit in time if he ran now? Were they under attack and if so, who? Was it a violent tectonic disturbance and was it something he could counter? It was as though the entire cavern system trembled in fear of something dreadful.

Having his home inside a hollowed-out, active volcano came with its upsides but it also came with an equal set of downsides to it. For instance, it was prone to sudden quakes that varied in their intensity and duration. Whereas those stemmed from the wrath of Mother Nature herself, this one felt too light and too brief for it to be caused by the same tectonic shifts. He had felt the ground shake before, he was used to them and this was not one of them.

It had felt more like an impact, the kind from something heavy striking the ground with such force to cause a tremor. What in the great world of Munhiero could have been capable of causing a tremor such as that?

The cavern once was the primary magma chamber of the volcano a long time ago before it was magically diverted away and drained to create a massive cavern befitting the sole resident of this mountain. It was shaped like a triangular prism. Wide at the bottom where the walls then angled towards each other and met at the ceiling. At a guess, the ceiling was at least a hundred feet tall and a hundred feet wide on the floor. The cavern stretched for at least a kilometre with rivulets of magma flowing on both sides, pouring out from channels created to provide a soft illumination and heating for the residence.

In the centre of the triangular corridor was a raised dais platform that acted as both study, office, and bedroom for the sole occupant of the volcano. A massive black dragon with crimson accents that ran along his hardened belly plates and wings, atop his head he had two sets of obsidian black horns stood out from his head. One on the crown of his head and the other jutted out from the side of his lower jaw, and both sets curved back then upward like a pointy crown. The leathery membrane that made up his wings was torn and shredded by years of combat, wear and tear, and of battles long past. Only one of many remnants on his body indicative of the struggles he had taken to get to where he is now. He craned his long neck back to inspect the rest of his body, ensuring that there was no damage and that he was in good enough shape to fight or defend. When nothing presented itself and everything seemed to have returned to normal, the dragon got up and shook the pins and needles sensation out of his extremities.

He briefly craned his head to look over his hind left leg; Intense scarring and burn marks covered the limb’s entire femoral bicep. The burn marks on his leg were from an old injury that always reminded him of a stupid decision he made and the life he could have had was gone as a result of it. At the very least, the Dragon was glad that despite its appearance it hadn’t impeded his ability to use the limb. The Dragon also possessed a lengthy, thin whip-like tail with a spade of keratin capping the end. The spade could be used both like a whip and a spear to impale his opponents who got unlucky enough to engender his ire.

He was a titan in his own right, a formidable presence that couldn’t be described in the same manner as every other creature below him. He wasn’t just any dragon, he wasn’t any being in a position of power and influence. No, he was in fact a force of nature unto himself.

He is the Dragon Lord. Nature’s champion.

Sometimes he would call himself that and chuckle at the overly pompous title as though he thought it to be beyond a ridiculous description of his real title.

For the moment the Dragon Lord thought he was wrong about his initial suspicion about the tremor and braced himself for the imminent aftershock, waiting for that slight tremble of the earth beneath his feet as Mother Nature herself shifted the ground to her designs. But it didn’t come. How odd.

Perhaps it was just a light one this time? He thought to himself. No, this is something else. Something was not right.

Barrelling out of one of the adjoining tunnels was a small dragon with crimson scales. “Master, Master!” Called the young drake. His voice was still in its soprano stage but just on the cusp of breaking into a lower, baritone voice that was becoming of an adult dragon. “You need to come out and see this, sire. There is a massive cloud of fire and thunder!”

The Dragon Lord looked up, partly worried. The younger dragon was a servant entrusted to do the bidding of his master. But despite the similar species, the servant was far below his master. If he was a god then the servant dragon was a peasant at best. But he did his best to not treat them like one, unlike his predecessors the Dragon Lord had instead opted to show them the same kindness and levity he would any other in his diplomatic duties.

“What are you talking about, Ilyun?” The Dragon Lord replied softly. Contrary to his servant, now called Ilyun, his voice was kindly and smooth like caramel. He had had a warmness to it that could melt frigid butter if he whispered compliments to it.

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Ilyun looked between his master and towards the passage he had entered from with panicked terror. His eyes were unfocused and flighty, they seemed to be looking at everything but his master directly. “It’s- its… I don’t even know how to describe it, you need to see for yourself!”

The Dragon Lord cocked an eye ridge in confusion but complied nonetheless.

The Dragon Lord started towards the steps that led off his dais platform and passed by shelves that contained his many artefacts and personal possessions. The artefacts themselves were passed down onto him from the previous Dragon Lord and were objects of magical and historical significance that were crucially entrusted to him as part of his job. But the rest of the trinkets belonged to him and him only. To everybody else these things would puzzle them as they tried to work out their significance or their importance to the Dragon Lord. But to him these possessions held the most amount of value. He approached a massive table off to the side of the stairs and reached for one small item in particular. A behaviour that he adopted whenever he was forced to leave the mountain home for whatever reason.

By comparison to the Dragon, the object was tiny. So tiny in fact that it required steady hands to pick it up between two of his claws and look at it with his enhanced vision. Age might be wearing him down physically but his eyesight remained just as sharp and keen as it did when he was in his prime.

“Why do you bother with that thing, Master?” The flighty servant, Ilyun inquired with a sneer. The servant Drake found that piece of memorabilia lowly for even the Dragon Lord to keep around, much less prize highly. “It and the lowly creatures depicted in it are nothing. They mean nothing to someone as important and as high as you, sire.”

A brief flash of anger welled up inside the Dragon Lord before he got a good hold of it and locked it down tight. In his head he imagined his anger as a raging fire that he could control through willpower alone and grabbed it. As though it were a physical thing that he could manipulate, the Dragon Lord imagined scrunching it up between his claws until it had been reduced to a small ball he could hide in one hand and placed it in a locked box before having it buried deep.

To anybody else, it would have looked as though that comment did nothing to upset the Dragon Lord. They would not have known about the brief loss of control had they known to look for the telling signs in his body language. He really wanted nothing more than to yell and scold Ilyun so much that he would be shaking in his scales for a week just for that comment. Instead he took in a deep breath then exhaled. The picture in his claws would puzzle everyone else trying to figure their significance, and in doing so fail to grasp the true value it held.

Only a trusted handful of his older servants and closest allies knew what it was and the value it held. He had to remind himself just how inexperienced Ilyun is. Rather than explain it, The Dragon Lord set the pictograph aside carefully and followed his servant through the tunnels. While he did so, he thought back to how many of his advisors and servants called his idea for a proposed experiment ridiculous and beyond stupid. That in no way was it going to work. But he did it anyway and for sixteen wonderful years he had thought he proved them wrong, in fact, he had even considered giving up his career as Dragon Lord in pursuit of raising his family instead. Oh, the looks on everyone’s faces when they heard he was considering early retirement was almost worth the verbal barrage he copped that day. He could have sworn the entire Dragon enclave had smoke rising out of their nostrils in fury at what he was implying.

But it seemed that the fates had a different path for him, one that only he didn’t rejoice in being placed in. His family life, the only time he had ever learn to love… was taken from him.

Still, everyday he kept his hopes up that maybe one day he will get to see his children once more. The thought of being reunited was enough to keep him going, even in his advanced years. The elderly Dragon Lord hung his head low as he tried to remember his children's faces and the warm feeling he got whenever he planted a kiss on their tiny heads. It was a feeling that was enough to keep him going.

At the far end of the tunnel, light was creeping in. That was really strange, as far as he knew it was still night-time. So, unless his servant woke him up early the next day or he slept in far later than he normally did there should not be any light whatsoever. Even the glow from the magma did not glow that bright. Once outside the mountain, the tunnel entrance was at the end of a large stoney plaza decorated with ornate pillars and statues of some of the world’s greatest heroes. Many were of Dragon Lord’s past with few from the other species who had demonstrated tremendous courage and bravery that was worthy of being immortalized. On his left, three pillars away was the Centaur archer Bathis, front hooves raised and ready to fire an arrow at any given time. Two pillars right, the Wood Elves’ first leader Tanith. His was for being the first person to unite the scattered wood tribes into one nation.

But despite these fabled heroes and legends with their likeness and heroism long last to myth and fable, and their form greatly exaggerated to give them look of a hero were not what drew the Dragon Lord’s eyes.

Sure enough he was right, it was still night when they emerged. The smell of sulphur clung to the air like an unwelcome stench that lingered too long but it was not as pungent as other days. Two of the three moons were at their zenith with the smallest of the trio nowhere to be found, the faint light casted down a silver glow on the sands of the desert stretching all the way out to the Great Mountain Range before him. Except that was the problem, the mountain range existed just on the horizon before him. So he should not be able to see it, period.

And yet he could easily make out its distinctive cragged peaks from where he was standing. The silhouette of the mountain was cast by the presence of what had the Dragon Lord initially believed to have been a disastrous volcanic eruption. This assumption was quickly squashed when he realised that his mountain home was the only active one for thousands of miles around.

He couldn’t help but stare at it. Thick smoke lit an ominous red billowed out as arcs of red lightening flashed across the thick, broad trunk of the mushroom cloud. Its very presence disrupted any nearby clouds leaving a noticeable clearing in the sky above, but the orange light cast from the hellacious mushroom cloud had illuminated the Soulfire desert and everything else like it was day.

The servant dragon said in a panicky tone. “What do we, sir? Is it the humans?”

The Dragon Lord frowned.

“It may very well be. They are the only ones who could do such a thing. I fear the Wood Elf tribe has been decimated by something powerful and utterly dreadful that the humans have concocted. Send for a scout to inspect the damage and report back to me. We need to know how bad it is and where resources can be allocated. In the meantime, have supplies like food and water prepared in caravans ready to go at a moments notice. And send out patrols to look for any survivors, we may need to take on refugees and look after them until we can get the full scale of this disaster understood.”

“As you wish.” Ilyun replied with a bow of his head before disappearing amid a crowd of onlooking spectators.

The Dragon Lord continued to look at the symbol of human destruction, the great and mighty Munhiero permanently scarred by such senseless destruction. Just what the Hell were they thinking, why would they do this? He quickly regained control over his own thoughts and tried to maintain his objectivity. He had no clue or evidence to suggest this was the work of humans... Yet. But he could sense it within his very core that it was. His chest grew heavy and with a saddened sigh, the Dragon Lord spoke softly so only he could hear.

“This isn’t the world I wanted for you, my sons. I only hope you can forgive me for what must be done.”