The mood was tense as James and his companions sat in the heart of the Dragon Kingdom's capital. The fires of Drakemire still smoldered in their memories, and the threat of Zarathros loomed heavier than ever. They had won a battle, but it had become increasingly clear that this was just the beginning of a long and bloody war. Zarathros was no mere threat on the horizon, he was moving, gathering power, and sending his undead armies to test the strength of the Dragonkin.
It was during one of these moments of reflection that Eryndra, the group's magical expert, stepped forward with a gleam in her eyes, holding a set of ancient scrolls she had been poring over for days.
"I think I've found something," she said, her voice breaking the somber silence of the room.
James, sitting at the head of the table, looked up from Zeldor, which he had been absentmindedly sharpening. "Something about Zarathros?"
