POV Vesuvius:
A cold spot appeared on the horizon, quickly getting closer and closer. It was as if winter had come, but there was no frost or snow, as it wasn't physical coldness but the coldness of death. The thick, impenetrable mist spread through the mountains as if someone spilled milk all over them.
The dragon flapped his wings, his life force flowing through his veins, pushing back the all-consuming coldness of death. His shiny armor and horns gleamed within the smoke clouds, in the faint golden light pulsing within the canyons of magma of his armor.
'They become stronger...' Vesuvius felt the aura of coldness and despair spill over the mountains, the grass withering and dying. Only the bubble of his aura kept it lush and green around him.
A single figure in a black robe, under its hood, nothing but endless darkness formed out of the mist, two ethereally blue eyes piercing through the mist and smoke.
