[???]
The air was thick with machinery, heavy with the scent of burning wires. The room was a vast, space, with walls that seemed to stretch on forever, lined with rows upon rows of humming machinery. The only light came from a series of flickering fluorescent tubes.
At the center of the room, a massive dragon corpse lay sprawled out, its body as long as a city block, its scales glinting like black diamonds. The air was heavy with the stench of the corpse, and yet, despite the overwhelming sense of decay, there was something almost majestic about the beast.
Selwyn regarded the dragon with a dull gaze while Nybbas wore his ever-present grin.
As Selwyn approached the dragon's corpse, Nybbas spoke in a low, rumbling voice, his words echoing off the walls of the room. "Ah, Selwyn, you've come just in time."
Selwyn nodded, his eyes never leaving the dragon's corpse. "Just be quick about it, demon. I grow more bored by the day."
Nybbas chuckled.
"Being bored seems just natural to you," the demon mused. "But oh well, let us get this over with."
With a gesture, Nybbas summoned a small orb of swirling energy that hovered in front of him. The orb pulsed, and Selwyn noted it began to take shape, forming into a series of glowing threads that seemed to stretch on forever.
"These are the souls we have gathered thus far," Nybbas said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "And with them, I shall bring this beast back to life."
As he spoke, Nybbas began to weave the threads together, forming a complex pattern that seemed to pulse with dark mana. The air around him grew hotter and more intense.
The dragon's corpse began to twitch and shudder, the air was filled with the stench of Death and decay, but beneath it all was a faint hum of mana.
And then, in a burst of blinding light and mana, the dragon's corpse erupted into life. Its scales glinted as it sat up, its eyes glowing, the air was filled with the sound of its wings beating against the darkness.
As Selwyn watched, the dragon rose to its feet, its body towering over them like a mountain. Its eyes burned as it regarded Nybbas and Selwyn.
Nybbas spoke in an excited tone. "Behold! I have brought you back to life, great beast. And now, I shall give you purpose."
The dragon's eyes narrowed as it regarded Nybbas and Selwyn. And then, in a voice that rumbled like thunder beneath their feet, it spoke.
"I am reborn," it said. "You, human, you might possess the blood of my kin, but do not be mistaken. I shall serve no one but myself."
As Selwyn watched in boredom, Nybbas merely chuckled. "Ah," he said. "A noble spirit indeed. And one that will make our next meeting most interesting."
With that, Nybbas turned and vanished into the darkness of the room, leaving Selwyn alone with the reborn dragon. The air was thick with tension as they regarded each other across the vast expanse of the room.
"I care not what you do, dragon," Selwyn stated. He had hoped the dragon would be more powerful, but this was disappointing. "Do what you want."
And then, without another word, Selwyn turned and followed Nybbas into the darkness.
And from there, a great roar resounded through all of Verdantis.
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[Verdantis]
[???]
The space was vast, and it was a dimly lit chamber that stretched out before her like a labyrinth, the air was thick with the musty scent of dust, and the flickering torches. Amidst this, a woman with porcelain skin and raven-black hair, dressed in a flowing black gown, paced.
Her eyes gleamed with an unnatural red intensity, a characteristic of her kind, as she surveyed the sprawling area. Before her lay the scattered remains of a dragon, its body parts arranged like a puzzle. The woman's name was Lyra, a sorceress renowned for her mastery of the arts among that she also held the possession of court mage for Verdantis.
As she walked, Lyra's gaze darted from one gruesome fragment to the next. Her eyes lingered on the scaled torso, where the flesh seemed to have been torn asunder by some invisible force.
"Ah, the core," Lyra murmured to herself, her voice low and husky. "The core are always the key. If I can understand how they absorb and deflect magic, in the Eternal City I never did get the chance to properly examine it, I'll be able to—"
She stopped before a section of wing membrane, its iridescent sheen dulled by the dust and grime that coated it. Lyra reached out a delicate hand, her fingers tracing the patterns etched into the surface. As she touched the scales, she felt a surge of energy course through her body, like a gentle electric shock.
"Ah, yes...the resonance frequency is still present," she whispered, her eyes closed in concentration. "If I can attune my own magic to this frequency, I might be able to—"
Lyra summoned a small burst of crimson mana, which danced across the wing membrane in a pattern. The air around her seemed to shimmer as she worked her magic, weaving a spell that resonated with the dragon's own essence.
Next, Lyra moved on to the dragon's head, its eyes vacant and dead, yet still seeming to stare into some distant realm. She examined the scaly ridges above the eyes, searching for any clues as to how the dragon's power had been structured.
"Fascinating," she breathed. "The dragon's resistance is tied to its cognitive processes – it's almost as if it's using its own consciousness to manipulate reality."
Lyra's fingers hovered above the scales as she pondered this revelation. She had long suspected that dragons possessed a unique connection to reality, but now she had concrete evidence. She most likely could have proved it earlier, but then again, she never had this chance to study a fresh corpse of a dragon, only the bones. Dragons were frightful creatures, she knew that to be true.
As she reached the final section of wing membrane, Lyra felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that she had reached a crucial moment in her research – one that would determine whether her obsession would ultimately lead to triumph or disaster.
"This is it," she whispered, "This is where I'll unlock the secrets of Dragonic Resonance once and for all."
With a deep breath, Lyra focused all her mana on the wing membrane. The air around her began to distort and ripple as she wove a web of magic – threads of crimson mana intertwining with threads of silver light.
The chamber seemed to grow darker still as Lyra's spell took hold. The torches flickered wildly as a result.
And then, in an instant, everything was still. The air was silent; the only sound was Lyra's breathing as she stood frozen with a frown.
"Seems it is not to be that easy." Her soothing voice lacked any frustration. She had all the time in the world to examine the dragon corpse; she would easily come up with more counters to dragon kin and by extension those with dragon blood running through their veins. Before her mind could race once more, her ears twitched as the large oak doors to her laboratory opened, and she was quite aware of who it was already.
"Reynard." She glanced at the one who entered her domain. He wore a grey outfit consisting mostly of gray and decorated with navy blue, furthermore there were black gloves connected to his attire, and he wore heavy black boots. He had a handsome face where two bright blue eyes sat and had a head of light blue hair. "To what do I owe this displeasure?" Lyra asked as she turned her attention back to the dragon parts.
"Come now, is that any way to treat one of Verdantis' most prized people?" He rather pridefully stated as he made his way further into the spacious room.
"Your only purpose lies with the festival and war," Lyra stated blandly; the boy scoffed.
"Please, the position of Inheritor is much more important than court mage!" He argued.
"Keep your voice down; this is a place of study," Lyra shot back unbothered. "And do not go saying that so loudly; your unique position is meant to be secret. It would not do our nation well if it is found out we have more than five of you."
"Yeah, yeah." Reynard did not seem to heed her words as he walked up next to her, looking at the various parts of the dragon. "But you must be having the time of your life. Finally having a dragon specimen to study."
"What is it you wanted here, Reynard?" She asked, getting tired of the tedious conversation. She felt a hand grip gently onto her chin before it was turned to the side, to him. Her brilliant red eyes bore into his mellow blue ones.
"Mayhap I want to warm my bed with you." He flashed a charming smile that would have melted the hearts of most. "You're quite old, but it won't do to let that beauty go to waste." Her response was to merely slap his hand away.
"Speak your business, or I'll forcefully remove you," she threatened in a low tone; the boy relented with a sigh.
"Fine, fine, it is about Reylthorn." Reynard started, Lyra quirked up a brow in interest.
"He used his Familial Arts, no?" She surmised.
"That's right, and we've come up with a new number one threat!" He proudly proclaimed as if it was his doing. "Apparently from the kid's own words, this guy is supposedly more powerful than that spawn of Octavia."
"Fascinating," Lyra murmured; it was indeed something troubling. Where had Galadriel acquired someone more powerful than the spawn of Octavia? Before her train of thought could continue, a loud roar resounded throughout everything. It was loud and seemed to cause the very walls to quake. "Seems some things are occurring outside."