In the Dragon Hills, the air was dense with smoke and the remnants of battle. Ryulong, the reigning Dragon King, descended from the sky, his dark, scaled figure looming as he landed on the rocky grounds of the dragons' cremation site. Around him, scattered embers glowed faintly, whispering tales of the recent fight. As his royal talons struck the ground, a throng of servants knelt, heads bowed low, their bodies tense.
"What happened here?" Ryulong's voice was low, a simmering fury lacing each word.
The Shaman dragon beside him, a wizened and mysterious figure with faintly glowing scales, peered over the somber scene. "This destruction hints at a battle, Your Majesty," he rasped, his gaze lingering on the charred earth and broken scales littering the area.
A royal servant hesitantly stepped forward, nervously flexing his claws. "The humans, sire. They... they freed all the girls who were taken for your plan to birth new dragons," he stammered.
At the mention of humans, Ryulong's eyes narrowed, his piercing gaze boring into the servant. "Humans?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disdain and disbelief.
The servant gulped, nodding. "They… they had help from the exiled dragons, Your Majesty. They entered the valley, united with the humans to attack."
The Shaman watched Ryulong closely as his king's brow furrowed, his eyes blazing. Without another word, Ryulong turned, stalking forward, his stride long and furious, each step a tremor in the ground. He signaled to another nearby servant. "Where is Cypher?" he demanded.
Before the servant could respond, Ryulong reached the door to Cypher's chamber and strode inside. The room was dim, with only a faint glow from a brazier lighting Cypher's battered form on the stone slab. His once-bright scales were dulled with burns and scars from the fight, and his body was riddled with fresh wounds. As Ryulong entered, Cypher attempted to sit up, his limbs trembling under the weight of both exhaustion and his king's intimidating presence.
Ryulong moved to Cypher's side, observing him with a cold, evaluating stare. "You will stay down," Ryulong commanded quietly, placing a clawed hand on Cypher's shoulder. In one swift, merciless motion, Ryulong pressed his claw against Cypher's remaining eye, digging slowly, deliberately, until he crushed it through the skin.
Cypher's muffled cries filled the room, his body writhing, but he dared not move from Ryulong's hold. When at last Ryulong removed his claw, Cypher was left shuddering and silent, tears streaming down his disfigured face. The Dragon King rose, his expression one of pure loathing, and turned to leave the room.
Outside, he addressed the Shaman, his voice as sharp as his claws. "I want another plan," he ordered coldly. "And this time, the exiled dragons and the humans will suffer."
With a nod, the Shaman bent low, his mind already spinning with twisted ideas as Ryulong's wrath left the air thrumming with the promise of vengeance.
The grand council room in the Simhika region was filled with figures from every corner of their world, each side represented in careful, tense unity. Regal stood at the front, recounting the harrowing events within the Dragon Hills and the growing divide among the dragons themselves. The air was thick with both hope and unspoken apprehension, each word from Regal a reminder of the dangers still lurking, yet also of the unprecedented alliances formed in the heat of battle.
The Goblin King, a stout and stately figure adorned in green and silver, rose solemnly after hearing the full tale. His voice, gruff yet respectful, filled the chamber, "What is done is done. I extend my deepest apologies for the losses my people caused in this senseless conflict." He bowed his head, and those present felt the weight of his words as they recalled the lives lost on both sides.
The Centaurus King, tall and proud, struck his chest with a firm hand, his voice carrying strength and sincerity. "Our warriors stand by you. On your command, twelve thousand centaur soldiers will answer the call. The time for trust and unity has arrived."
As the meeting pressed on, Jacob found himself focused on a murmur from the representative of the Raktabija region. He caught the words, "the elder leader of the human regions has passed."
Jacob's heart skipped, and he interrupted, his voice tinged with a mixture of shock and sorrow. "What did you just say?"
The representative repeated, "Yes, our elder leader passed while you were away, Jacob. The one who signed the peace treaties with all our allies. His most senior disciple will now take his place, and we will work under his guidance."
Jacob took a moment to absorb the loss. The elder had been a visionary, a figure whose influence had bound the humans and allied races together under treaties of peace. His absence left a void that no single leader could fill entirely.
Aayam, sensing the somber tone in the room, interjected with a hopeful smile. "I've heard the coronation will be held the day after tomorrow. We will honor his legacy by uniting as he would have wanted."
With that, the Goblin King, Centaurus King, and human representatives exchanged glances and nodded, their hearts aligned in shared purpose.
The Goblin King, his tone brighter now, added, "We shall offer a portion of our treasury as a symbol of commitment to this peace. And we shall welcome the exiled dragons among our allies. We have much to gain and even more to protect together."
A wave of relief and optimism settled over the gathering. Aayam broke the silence with a grin, "Then, my friends, do you know what this calls for? A celebration!"
A flicker of smiles, a nod from each leader, and soon, hands met in handshakes of camaraderie. It was a pledge, unspoken yet binding, a shared commitment to the alliances they had forged through loss and struggle.
The plans were set, and tomorrow they would mourn and honor. But the day after that, they would rejoice—every race, every representative, celebrating a hard-won peace and the dawn of a new era.