Manu stepped to the edge of the platform, his sharp eyes watching the chaos unfold with delight. He patted the platform beneath his feet as if it were a living thing and smirked, licking his lower lip like a predator savoring a meal.
"I should really thank that old dragon Patriarch," he murmured, his voice carrying an almost reverent tone, "for the gift of the *Draco Mortem*."
He tilted his head as if recalling a fond memory, though the truth was far more sinister. The *Draco Mortem* had indeed been a gift—one he had stolen and corrupted further. These were no ordinary remains; they were the diseased dead of the dragons, cursed by a blight Manu himself had unleashed upon the Dragon Lands millennia ago.
