The next day, the White Dragon Clan's citadel hummed with a quiet tension. The White Dragon Throne, carved from shimmering ivory and embedded with crystals that seemed to pulse with ancient magic, was now occupied by Viserion. His silver eyes, cold and calculating, surveyed the fifty or so White Dragon elders standing in a wide circle around him. Their robes were adorned with symbols of their power and age, marking their seniority within the clan.

The air was thick with the weight of decisions yet to be made. Murmurs drifted through the chamber, the elders speaking in low tones, discussing the planet’s dying state, the dwindling water supply, and the fate of their once-mighty civilization. Viserion, though young, sat with a regal stillness, his expression unreadable. He was the leader now, and all eyes were on him.

Suddenly, the chamber doors swung open, and a guard stepped in, bowing low. "My lord," the guard announced, his voice carrying through the vast hall, "the four leaders of the other great dragon clans have arrived, along with important members of their families."

A hush fell over the room as the leaders entered one by one. First came Lord Kaiden, head of the Ironclaw Clan, known for their strength in battle and mastery of earth magic. His broad shoulders and piercing golden eyes radiated authority. Beside him walked his eldest daughter, Lysandra, her sharp features and raven-black hair marking her as one of the fiercest warriors in their clan.

Next was Lady Valera of the Stormfang Clan, her silver-blue scales glinting in the light. She was a master of wind and lightning, her clan long revered for their agility in the skies. Accompanying her was her younger brother, Ryn, a skilled strategist whose keen mind had saved his clan from countless disasters.

Lord Aldric of the Emberheart Clan followed, his crimson scales and fiery presence filling the room with heat. His clan was renowned for their control over fire, and his very footsteps seemed to leave smoldering marks on the stone floor. His second son, Marek, stood beside him, his eyes burning with the same intensity as his father’s.

Last to enter was Lady Thalira of the Shadewing Clan, her dark, shadowy form almost blending into the shadows of the room. Her clan’s mastery over darkness and stealth had made them both feared and respected. With her came Elya, her niece, a powerful sorceress who could manipulate the shadows at will.

As the four leaders and their families gathered before Viserion, they each bowed their heads in respect, acknowledging him as the new Lord of the White Dragon Clan.

"Lord Viserion," Kaiden was the first to speak, his deep voice carrying the gravity of their situation. "We have come, as agreed, to discuss the future of our world."

Viserion inclined his head slightly. "I am honored by your presence. We all know the situation is dire. The planet’s resources are nearly depleted. The water will be gone in five years, perhaps ten if we’re fortunate. The births in all clans have all but ceased. We are facing extinction. The question now is simple: do we stay on Eos and die, or do we join together and find a way to survive?"

A heavy silence fell over the room as his words settled in. Lady Valera, always quick to action, stepped forward. "What option do we have? There is no water left, no land that can sustain life. Our people are on the brink of despair. If there is a way to escape this world, we must take it."

Lord Aldric, ever cautious, crossed his arms, his fiery eyes locked on Viserion. "And what is this plan you speak of, White Dragon? We know of no way off this forsaken planet."

Viserion straightened in his seat, his voice calm but firm. "There is a portal. An ancient gateway left behind by the great dragon Nira, ten thousand years ago. It lies beneath this very city."

"Impossible," Marek muttered, his fiery temper flaring. "Nira was a myth. No portal has ever been found."

"It is no myth," Viserion responded sharply, his silver eyes narrowing. "We have found signs of it—deep beneath the city. It is real, and it may be our only way off this world."

The room buzzed with murmurs of disbelief and cautious hope. The leaders exchanged glances, weighing the truth of Viserion’s claim. Lady Thalira’s voice, soft and almost ethereal, cut through the whispers. "If such a portal exists, how do we know it will lead us to salvation? We could step through and find nothing but more death."

Viserion’s jaw tightened. "It is a risk, yes. But staying here guarantees death. The portal is our only chance."

Before any of the leaders could respond, the door to the chamber burst open once more. Tomo entered, his face flushed with excitement, followed by several scouts and researchers from the White Dragon Clan. He hurried forward, bowing quickly to Viserion before speaking.

"My lord," Tomo began, his voice breathless, "we’ve found it."

A ripple of shock spread through the room.

"Found what?" Lord Kaiden demanded, stepping closer.

"The portal," Tomo replied. "We sent a team to scout beneath the city, and we’ve located it. The markings, the energy—it matches the descriptions from the ancient texts. It’s real."

Viserion rose from his seat, his heart pounding. "Tell me everything."

Tomo stepped forward, unrolling a map on the stone table. "The portal is hidden in a cavern deep beneath the city, far below the old catacombs. The entrance was sealed by layers of ancient magic, but we were able to break through. The portal itself is massive, a towering archway inscribed with symbols we’ve never seen before. And the energy… it’s still active, though weak."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

One of the scouts stepped forward. "It’s unlike anything we’ve ever felt, my lord. The magic there is powerful, but… it’s old, almost decayed. We believe the portal can be reactivated, but it will require a significant amount of power. Perhaps a sacrifice."

"Another life," Lady Valera muttered, her face grim. "Just as Nira sacrificed herself to create the portal."

Viserion stared at the map, his mind racing. "What kind of power would be enough to reopen the portal?"

Tomo hesitated. "We don’t know for sure, but it will likely require something more than ordinary magic. Blood magic… or the life force of a dragon."

A heavy silence fell over the room as the implications became clear. The portal could save them, but at a terrible cost.

"We are running out of time," Viserion said, his voice cutting through the tension. "We either open that portal, or we all die here. I am willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure the survival of our people."

The leaders exchanged grim looks, the weight of the decision pressing down on them. Finally, Lord Aldric spoke. "We have no choice. We must combine our strength, our resources, and see if this portal can be opened."

Lady Thalira nodded. "But we must proceed with caution. If we fail…"

"We won’t fail," Viserion interrupted, his voice filled with steely determination. "We cannot afford to."

The room fell silent again, the gravity of their situation settling over them like a dark cloud. The fate of their world—and their survival—now hinged on one ancient portal, buried in the depths of a dying planet.

…..

The tension in the room had reached a fever pitch. The leaders of the four great dragon clans, along with Viserion and his elders, were locked in intense debate about the newly discovered portal. Voices rose and fell as the conversation veered from hope to skepticism. Some argued that they should proceed with opening the portal immediately, while others voiced concerns about the risks involved.

Suddenly, from a shadowed corner of the great hall, the sound of light footsteps echoed against the stone floor. All eyes turned to a woman who entered quietly from a side door. Elyra, one of the most respected scholars of the White Dragon Clan, was known not for her battle prowess but for her vast knowledge of ancient texts and history. Her long silver hair was pulled back into a simple braid, and her violet eyes gleamed with the depth of her intellect. In her hands, she held a weathered scroll, its edges frayed and worn with time.

She approached Viserion, her posture calm and measured, despite the tension in the air. Bowing slightly, she held out the scroll. "My lord, I believe this may be of importance to our discussion."

Viserion, his silver eyes narrowing with curiosity, gestured for her to approach the throne. "Elyra, what is this?"

"It is an ancient text," she began, unrolling the scroll with delicate care. "One that dates back to Lady Nira's time, over ten thousand years ago. It is written in the old dragon tongue, a language few still understand."

Viserion’s eyes flickered over the unfamiliar script, his expression shifting from curiosity to frustration. "And what does it say? Speak plainly."

Elyra nodded, her fingers tracing the faded lines of the text as she translated. "It speaks of a warning, my lord. A message left behind by Lady Nira herself. It says—" she paused, her voice dropping to a whisper, "—'From the stars they came, and all life ended. Trust not the Celestials of Light.'"

A murmur of confusion rippled through the room. The leaders of the other clans exchanged uneasy glances, while the elders of the White Dragon Clan shifted uncomfortably.

Viserion leaned forward in his seat, his eyes narrowing. "The Celestials of Light? Who are they?"

Elyra hesitated, glancing down at the scroll once more before shaking her head. "I... I do not know, my lord. The text is ancient, and much of the history from that time has been lost to us. Whatever knowledge we once had of these 'Celestials' has been erased from our records."

Lord Kaiden, his deep voice filled with skepticism, stepped forward. "Are you saying we should fear beings we've never heard of, based on a cryptic message left behind thousands of years ago?"

"The Celestials of Light..." Lady Valera mused, her brows furrowing. "It sounds like a warning, but of what? Invaders from the stars?"

"Perhaps they are the ones responsible for the devastation of our world," Marek suggested, his fiery gaze fixed on Elyra. "But why would Lady Nira leave such a message? What was her connection to these Celestials?"

"I wish I had more answers," Elyra replied softly, her eyes downcast. "But the knowledge of that time has been lost, scattered to the winds with the fall of the great civilizations. All we have are these fragments, warnings left behind in ancient tongues."

Viserion clenched his jaw, his mind racing. "This message is a warning, and we cannot afford to ignore it. But without more information, we are left in the dark. Trust not the Celestials of Light... What does that mean for the portal?"

Elyra shook her head. "I do not know, my lord. But I fear that opening the portal may not bring us the salvation we seek. If the Celestials of Light are involved, we may be walking into a trap."

The hall fell into a heavy silence, the weight of her words pressing down on everyone present. The leaders of the clans exchanged uncertain glances, while the elders of the White Dragon Clan stood still, their faces grim.

Then, from the back of the hall, three elders—one from each of the Ironclaw, Stormfang, and Emberheart clans—stepped forward. They were ancient, their scales dulled with age, but their eyes burned with the fierce light of resolve.

"We will sacrifice," said the elder from the Ironclaw Clan, his voice raspy but filled with determination. "If it is the only way to activate the portal and ensure the survival of our people, we offer our lives."

The hall erupted into stunned gasps. Even the normally composed Viserion felt his chest tighten with shock. These were not mere warriors or scholars—they were elders, the backbone of their respective clans. Their loss would be deeply felt.

"Are you certain?" Viserion asked, his voice low and grave. "You understand the gravity of what you’re offering?"

The elder from the Stormfang Clan, her frail body still carrying the grace of her prime, nodded. "We are old, Viserion. Our time is nearing its end, but the future of our people still stretches ahead. If our deaths can buy that future, then so be it."

The Emberheart elder, his crimson scales dulled with age but his fiery spirit undimmed, stepped forward. "This is our duty. We have lived long and seen much, but it is now the time for the younger generations to lead. If a blood sacrifice is needed, let it be ours."

The room was silent, the weight of their sacrifice hanging heavy in the air. Even the most hardened of warriors stood in quiet reverence. The gravity of what they were offering was immense—their very life force to power the ancient portal, a gateway that could either save or doom them.

Viserion's silver eyes darkened with conflict. He felt the heavy burden of leadership on his shoulders like never before. "Your sacrifice would be honored, but it should not be taken lightly. If we fail, it will all be for nothing."

The Ironclaw elder gave a sad smile. "Then let us make sure we do not fail, Lord Viserion. We are ready when you are."

Viserion closed his eyes briefly, gathering his thoughts before speaking once more. "Very well. We will prepare the ritual. But before we do anything, we must confirm the portal's purpose—and whether the Celestials of Light pose the threat Nira warned us about."