The sun was dying on the horizon, tinted a sickly red that seemed to announce the tragedy to come. Deep in a ruined cavern, hidden in a ravine that no creature dared cross, lay Carcom, the traitor dragon.
His titanic body, covered in scars and open wounds, emitted a dim and disturbing glow. His every breath was a scream that resonated in the confines of the rock, an echo of pain and transformation.
It had been days or perhaps weeks since his confrontation with the dragon kings, time meaningless in this remote place. Those ancient beings, whose majesty was equaled only by their cruelty, had torn his flesh and broken his spirit.
Carcom had fought with a ferocity born of hatred, but it was not enough. He had been defeated, humiliated, and left on the brink of death. The true horror, however, came not with his physical wounds, but with the burden he had taken upon himself: the fragment of a fallen god that now dwelled within him.
