As Sylraevas, Lady of the Stars, struggled back to her feet, she made a point of looking up at the night sky one last time. For she knew that was what she would miss the most.
The feeling of the wind beneath her wings, the stars brilliant against the darkness above her, the clouds beneath, concealing Parovia even further below. Nothing felt freer or made the fire deep within her blaze quite so hot.
Yes, it was flying through the night sky that she would miss the most.
As another wave of dark, miasmic electricity rippled through her massive frame, Sylraevas rent the air with a horrible cry of pain. She felt the strength oozing from her body, her very essence being pulled from within.
Turning her defiant, reptilian gaze on the decrepit creature responsible, and despite the debilitating pain echoing all through her, a primal roar rumbled up from her stomach and out into the night. This cry was not one of pain or sorrow, though. No, this was a roar of rage. A roar to show this servant of the Fade that even if she could no longer fight, her will remained strong.
That was something the Sorcerer could not take from her.
“Hush now, beast. It will all be over soon,” the disgusting, gray skinned human rasped, his voice like steel scraping against stone. Oh, how Sylraevas wished that she could prove him wrong. How she wished she could reach out with her powerful, mighty claws and strike him down like the foul things he reminded her of.
But his control of the Fade had taken care of that, and even now he continued to draw her soul into the shard of Eternal Obsidian he held in his bulbous, veiny hands.
As it was the only form of resistance she could still offer, the Lady of Stars roared once more. Though it was already weaker than just mere moments ago, Sylraevas would not give the Sorcerer the satisfaction of quietly relinquishing her soul.
Far to the East, easy to see from atop the mountain on which their struggle had taken place, the first hint of dawn began to shine its light across the world. She felt her strength weaken even more now, the natural waning of her power as the time of the Light Father, Lord of the Skies, Taeminiros slowly began.
Sylraevas wept as the light made clear what the darkness had hidden. The bodies of almost all of her children littered the mountains around them, the aftermath of the betrayal of their cousins. Even now, wyverns perched nearby, watching with eyes that seemed a mix of glee, fear, and awe.
Never before had they seen such a sight, and it was likely they never would again. Despite the pain that still racked her body, their betrayal was what stung the most. The Wyvern Queen, Telokira, the Mistress of Twilight, and her mate, Mandrikar, Master of the Dawn, stood behind the Sorcerer.
Despite the distaste in their eyes as they watched the man do his filthy work, they made no move to stop him. They knew what they had done, and they had chosen their path willingly. For the sake of their greed, they had betrayed Sylraevas. If she had the strength left to do so, she would have struck down the betrayers where they stood.
But she could not. All of her strength was spent.
“Amos, He comes,” Telokira said, breaking the silence as the Sorcerer continued to drain Sylraevas’s soul. The man didn’t even look back as he replied.
“You know your duty. The ritual is almost complete. Soon, the skies will be yours, and yours alone. All you must do now is fight for it,” the Sorcerer, Amos, said. The two, massive wyverns snarled at the apparent irreverence of the human but received no response.
“Know that if you have lied to us, human, you will learn what pain can be,” Mandrikar hissed. Yet still he turned, his wings unfolding to their complete unfurled length, his silver and orange scales rippling over a frame of almost all muscle as the king of wyverns took to the sky, turning to face the rising sun.
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Telokira kept her eyes trained on the Sorcerer for a moment longer, but then she rose as well, turning to hover next to her mate, bracing for what was about to come.
The first sign of His arrival was the roar.
The very skies of Parovia shook beneath His white hot rage, the sound of His anger like the sound of the end of all things.
The second sign of His arrival was the heat that descended upon the mountaintop.
The snow evaporated from the peaks in a matter of seconds, the flames of the Lord of the Skies felt long before He was even in view.
The final sign of His arrival was a sound like thunder, Taeminiros shattering the very air around Him in His flight across the early morning sky.
Sylraevas heard it and felt hope, though she knew it was too late for her own life to be saved. The wyverns, those beneath Telokira and Mandrikar, flinched and fled, their basest, most animal instincts screaming at them to fly as far and as fast as they could.
The Mistress of Twilight and the Master of the Dawn remained in the sky, facing the East, prepared for the fight of their lives. And the Sorcerer, Amos, paid the sound no mind at all.
One moment the sky was empty.
The next, it was filled by scales like sky blue diamond, and great leathery wings that blocked out the light of the sun. Eyes as blue as the clearest ocean shone with an anger that would have shattered the wills of any mortal man or woman who saw them.
The specter of death that appeared before them all was at once terrible and beautiful, and it was Taeminiros, the Lord of the Skies.
In less than a heartbeat He engaged, Telokira and Mandrikar racing to meet Him together, knowing that their only chance lie in working in concert. To face the wrath of Taeminiros alone was to mock death as it claimed you. It was not done.
Their conflict shook the foundations of Parovia, and they did not even touch the ground. Sylraevas watched, helpless, as the fight continued, knowing she could not help and wishing that she could fight alongside her mate, anyways. Yet Amos had spoken truly.
His spell was almost complete.
Already, the Lady of Stars no longer felt as if her body was her own. It was as if she was seeing from within the Eternal Obsidian held by the Sorcerer, looking in every direction at once, taking in every detail of that mountaintop.
She watched as, despite their best efforts, first Mandrikar and then Telokira were struck from the skies, no match for Taeminiros even when fighting together. She watched as He roared, victorious, and when He landed all the world shook beneath His great form.
Yet despite all of this, Amos did not waver.
He did not waver, for the Lord of the Skies was too late. His spell was complete, and Sylraevas’s soul belonged to him, trapped forever in the shard of that which should no longer be, Eternal Obsidian.
And though she wished that He would not hesitate to strike down the Sorcerer, she knew that Taeminiros would never harm the man. For His love for Sylraevas was greater than the heat of the sun, and her soul in Amos’s hands commanded His obedience.
The Lord of the Skies roared, hatred and rage eroding the very mountains around them, yet the one upon which they stood remained untouched, save for a darkness that spread like rot down from its peak.
Amos had him.
“Taeminiros, Lord of the Skies! I am Amos, and you are mine to command!” the Sorcerer cried, cackling wildly, and the human’s madness became all the clearer for it.
Telokira, though wounded, was now returning to her feet, her razor-sharp teeth revealed as she grinned victoriously, despite her obvious pain. Mandrikar was returning to his feet as well, though a bit more slowly than his mate, his wounds just a bit more serious.
“Your spell is finished, human. The Dragon King is yours. Now have Him heal us, and then be done with Him, as you promised,” Mandrikar said, his words coming strained through his pain. Amos turned and looked at the two wyverns, his head cocked and his eyes wide, as if he’d just remembered that they were there at all.
“Ah, I suppose it is time to finish things up, isn’t it?” the Sorcerer said, his smile almost pleasant. Holding out the Eternal Obsidian, as if making sure that everyone could see it, and that Sylraevas could watch from within her prison, his betrayal should have been obvious to them all.
Yet it wasn’t.
“Taeminiros, as my first command, I order you; kill the lesser ones.” As Amos spoke, the Lord of the Skies was already moving, whirling on Mandrikar first before either he or his mate knew what was happening.
His teeth closed around the Lord of the Dawn’s long, sinuous neck, and snapped it off, ending the wyvern’s life immediately.
“Mandri- ?” Telokira began, too shocked to even try and move when Taeminiros brought one of His clawed hands around, ripping her giant, beating heart from her chest.
And all the while, the Sorcerer laughed, reveling in the power he now commanded, all the might of the greatest living creature in Parovia in his hands.
This while Sylraevas wept, knowing no one could hear her.
Knowing that the Age of Dragons had come crashing to an end.