Winter had not yet finished with Kahr-Valen. It had come to the city peacefully three months prior, gently covering the streets in a soft layer of snow overnight. The men had even welcomed the calm winds that offered relief from the hot Autumn season. Then the blizzards came, laying siege to the city with hailstone cannonballs and drenching volleys of frigid ice and rain for weeks at a time. It was a hard winter, and many in the town had succumbed to the death chill, freezing as they failed at futile attempts to stay warm in their homes at night.
Winter was clinging to Khar-Valen, desperately trying to choke the last bit of life from those wretched enough to still live within the walls, but despite its best efforts, Winter’s defeat was inevitable. Spring was on the horizon. Men had begun to spot the shoots of green Hellebore leaves peeking out from beneath the layers of snow, and they could hear the growing song of birds returning from afar. Those who knew the signs could see Spring twisting into the valley like a serpent, slowly eating away at Winter's decaying corpse. Spring brought a promise of life back to the men in Khar-Valen, and they found hope in its approach.
The Dragons came on that lonely night, lost somewhere between life and death. They arrived while the men in the frozen city slept unawares of their meeting. They settled on the mountain peaks high above the fortress, giving no thought to the freezing rains and sharp winds. They were creatures of fire, and winter held no power over them. Seven winged behemoths covered from head to tail in shimmering scales took their place among the ancient stones, and as one, they took on the forms of Men. Age-old arguments and petty rivalries resurfaced between the gathered Wyrms. Discussions of land rights, trade deals, marriage arrangements, and all matters of courtly diplomacy filled the air as the seven princes waited. Each Dragon wore a crown in their human form, marking them as royalty, and yet despite this, each still bowed their heads low as a shadow grew over them. They became silent at once as a dragon more enormous than any of the seven settled on the highest peak. The Ancient One did not take the shape of man, and all in attendance knew that would be beneath one such as he. The Emperor of the Dragons looked upon his Seven Princes and spoke in a voice that shook the world.
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“I choose to forgive each of you tonight, for it can only be the ignorance of your youth and your naive nature that causes you to question a truth that is burned into me deeper than the brand upon my chest." The Emperor paused as the seven looked to the scarred ashen-colored scales that marred his otherwise perfect coat of obsidian scales. The shot to the Pride of the seven princes went unchallenged, as expected, so the Emperor continued, "I give to each of you now a final opportunity to understand my Edict." The Emperor lowered his head as if remembering something he had hoped to forget. "You choose to see men as nothing but slaves; weak, unimportant, pitiful wretches who exist only to serve us. This is nothing but a truth that we have fabricated and maintained for thousands of years, but you must never believe the lies we use to chain them, lest they be turned to bear against us. Once long ago, men were not weak, broken, or feeble. We have only made them this way through centuries of oppression, slavery, and fear.” Some of the princes turned their heads at this. A small show of disbelief, obviously refusing to accept that the pitiful race of man was ever more than scum. “You turn from the truth into arrogance!” The Emperor bellowed, shaking the peaks with a fury so suddenly that the gathered princes fell to the ground in fear. “Men are creatures of unbridled potential and wanton destruction. If you ever allow a spark to take hold within them; grant them the dullest glimpse of power; give them the smallest taste of magic; let them have but a sliver of hope; then they will grow that spark into an inferno that will consume our world and put an end to us.” The Emperor grew sullen and let his words sink in before looking to each prince in turn. “We must continue snuffing out even the dimmest hint of fire in them. Only this can guarantee that they never find it within themselves to even dream of stopping us again.”
Emperor Gigadraxus looked to the city of Kahr-Valen, hate burning deep in his eyes, "Question me no more and obey my law, Khar Valen, First City of Prince Traxion will be purged, and no man shall leave its walls with his life. There will be no quarter for humankind; No mercy for the crime of pursuing magic. For them, I offer only complete oblivion." The word of the emperor was undeniable, and none could refuse. So the princes returned to the skies and brought the full might of seven Dragon Lords upon the sleeping city. When Spring finally reached the Valley, Khar Valen was no more, and all that remained was a memory of ash amidst the melting snow.