Bahamut's colossal form shifted and morphed, the ancient dragon undergoing a profound transformation under the crimson aurora. His once two-legged stance gave way to six powerful limbs, a momentary struggle with balance as the newfound limbs adjusted to their existence. Bahamut navigated his metamorphosis with a regal determination.
His wings, once grand, now expanded into a size that defied his imagination. The night air seemed to tremble as these colossal wings stretched wide, embracing the essence of his newfound form. Bahamut's eyes, glowing with molten gold, surveyed the changes in his own physique—a body now more reminiscent of the majestic dragons of fantasy he know of.
A momentary unease gripped Bahamut as he flexed his newfound limbs, the sensation akin to a dragon testing its wings for the first time. Yet, in the face of uncertainty, the ancient dragon found his equilibrium. Standing tall on his four mighty limbs, Bahamut surveyed the Dragonmont with a newfound majesty.
His body, once sinewy and agile, had transformed into a muscular marvel, each limb exuding a strength that spoke of ancient power. Bahamut marveled at this metamorphosis, his tail—leaner yet stronger—swaying with an otherworldly grace behind him. The crimson aurora painted his form with an ethereal glow, turning scales as black as obsidian into a spectacle of magical radiance.
Bahamut's senses, sharpened to a level beyond comprehension, could now feel the pulse of magic that coursed through Dragonstone. The very air around him thrummed with the presence of elemental forces, and Bahamut could perceive the currents of magic with an unprecedented clarity.
As the dragon king stood beneath the red-streaked sky, he couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity. The echoes of ancient magic whispered through his transformed being, and Bahamut roared, a proclamation to the world that he had evolved into a true dragon, a force of nature reborn.
Under the red-streaked sky of Dragonstone, the Lords of Westeros and the men who served under Bahamut stood in stunned silence. The awe-inspiring sight above them unfolded like a celestial tapestry, an event beyond the scope of their understanding. The crimson aurora that painted the heavens, these were phenomena that defied the natural order.
The lords and their retinues, whose knowledge was rooted in the tangible world of politics and war, found themselves faced with a force beyond their reckoning. The red comet, a mere whisper of the magical currents now cascading across the skies, seemed a pale prelude to the grandeur before them.
Aegon, flanked by his sorcerer advisor, sought to understand the unfolding spectacle. He yearned to approach Bahamut, to unravel the mysteries. The sorcerer, with furrowed brows, attempted to grasp the arcane energies at play but found himself bewildered by the sheer magnitude of the unfolding magical symphony.
Yet, from the far reaches of the world, beyond the Wall, in the mysterious lands of Sorthoyos, and within the hidden recesses of the Shadow Lands, whispers echoed. Those who dwelled in the deep mountains and desolate landscapes became aware of the cosmic shifts. In the face of this cosmic revelation, a simple sentence resonated in their collective consciousness: "A new player has come.".