Rising to their feet, the assembled Demon nobles of the ancient Jaxith family found themselves gazing upward, their eyes meeting the majestic figures perched atop the floating Dark Drake, flanked by a line of Silver Wyverns moving in perfect unison.
The merch golems on their backs emotionlessly gazing upon them.
The sheer enormity of the Dark Fire Drake demanded that they raise their heads to meet its gaze. Yet, despite its close proximity, an eerie stillness pervaded the air—no breath, no hint of a heartbeat. Its eyes, once brimming with life, now harbored small, flickering red flames in place of pupils.
'An Undead.'
Their shock wasn't solely due to the undead nature of the Drake; rumors had long whispered about the Lord of the Darknar family's dominion over death. What truly jolted them was the realization that a living Drake, a being that could easily fell cities by itself had been sacrificed to give birth to this monstrous creation.
