Thor, Lyra, and Caius crested the final dune, the harsh desert landscape giving way to the imposing rise of a mountain range. Relief washed over them, the Skullfang Fortress, their elusive target, perched atop the tallest peak. Caius, his face etched with exhaustion, raised a hand, channeling his magic to pinpoint the fortress's location. His eyes widened in alarm.
"It's on the peak, the fortress" he gasped, pointing upwards.
Before they could react further, a dark blur streaked down from the mountaintop. Skarn, the Skull Lord's right hand, stood right before them, his gargoyle form a chilling embodiment of dark magic and razor-sharp claws.
Without a word, Skarn launched himself towards them. His movements were impossible to track, a whirlwind of dark magic and inhuman speed. Before Thor could even shout a warning, Skarn was upon Caius. A single, extended finger, imbued with malevolent energy, pierced through Caius's armor and into his abdomen. Caius crumpled to the ground, a choked cry escaping his lips. Time seemed to slow, Lyra's cry echoing in the vast emptiness as Skarn repeated the action, leaving her crumpled on the sand.
Fury consumed Thor. He roared, "Who are you, and why are you doing this?!" His axe blazed with the Dragon's power, but Skarn, a whirlwind of dark magic and inhuman speed, easily dodged each fiery swing. Skarn said "I am Skarn, the right hand man of the Skull Lord. What you see right now is the fate of those who oppose the Skull Lord."
As if to punctuate his dominance, Skarn snatched both Lyra and Caius with telekinetic ease, levitating them high above the ground.
"They will remain unharmed," Skarn's voice echoed, "for three days. Come to Skullfang fortress if you wish to see them alive. Consider it a test, warrior. The Skull Lord desires your… cooperation. After all, you are the key."
With a final taunting laugh, Skarn vanished, leaving Thor alone with the weight of his failure crushing him. The friends he swore to protect, now hostages in the hands of a monster. Despair threatened to consume him, but then, a figure emerged from the shadows of a nearby rock. It was the old man they had saved in the desert.
"Well, well," the old man said, his voice surprisingly youthful for his weathered appearance. "Quite a predicament you find yourselves in."
Thor stared at him, disbelief warred with suspicion. "You were unconscious..."
The old man chuckled, a deep rumble that belied his frail frame. "Unconscious? Hardly. Merely… observing. My name is Hephaestus. Your friend's magic… well, let's just say it wasn't the most secure vault."
Anger flared in Thor, but the old man raised a hand, silencing him. "Anger leads to mistakes, young warrior. Now, shouldn't you be going after your friends?"
"I don't know if I can save them," Thor choked out, his voice raw with emotion. "I am… not strong enough."
The old man's laughter boomed across the rocks, startling Thor out of his despondency. "You? The wielder of the Skyfire Dragon's power? Not strong enough? Amusing indeed."
Hesitantly, Thor met his gaze. "Skarn… he was too fast, too strong. I couldn't…"
The old man's laughter subsided, replaced by a knowing smile. "Three days, he gave you. Three days to hone your skills, to unlock the true potential within you. I offer you a chance, warrior. Three days of training. Will you accept?"
Hope flickered in Thor's eyes, then hardened into resolve. "Why are you helping me?"
The old man's smile deepened. "Consider it repayment for saving an old man's life. Or perhaps… I see a glimmer of something greater within you, a destiny yet to be forged."
And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the land. The warrior and the mysterious teacher, united by circumstance and purpose, embarked on a path of intense training, a race against time with the fate of Elara, Lyra, Caius, and perhaps the entire realm hanging in the balance.