(The swamp's eerie silence was shattered as Lucian's voice thundered through the murky air. The fire flared, casting wild shadows across his face as his fury boiled over.)
Lucian: I LOST MY ENTIRE CLAN DUE TO WAR! WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO SPEAK TO ME LIKE YOU KNOW EVERYTHING?!
(His fists clenched, sparks of electricity dancing around his hands. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, raw and unfiltered.)
(Bors shot to his feet, his face twisted with fury, his axe trembling in his grip as he pointed it at Lucian.)
Bors: YOU AND THE LEGION KNIGHTS SLAUGHTERED MAJORITY OF MY CLAN AND FORCED THE REST INTO SLAVERY TO JOIN YOUR EMPIRE! THE FEW WHO ESCAPED HAD TO SCATTER LIKE RATS, AND THOSE LUCKY ENOUGH JOINED THE FRONTIER!
(Lucian's eyes burned with barely contained rage, the ground beneath him cracking as his power surged uncontrollably.)
Lucian: *Do you think I wanted this?! Do you think I wanted all this death and destruction?!
His eyes burned with raw fury, electricity sparking across his body as he stood, towering over Bors. The weight of his grief and anger filled the air like a storm.)
Lucian: You think you've suffered, Bors? You think you know pain? I watched my family, my people, burned to ash because of war. I carry the weight of their deaths every damn day!
(Bors rose to his feet, meeting Lucian's rage with his own. His voice was equally loud, his grip tightening on his axe as he stepped forward.)
Bors: YOU AND THE LEGION KNIGHTS SLAUGHTERED MAJORITY OF MY CLAN! YOU FORCED THE REST INTO SLAVERY TO JOIN YOUR EMPIRE WHILE THE FEW OF US SCATTERED, LEFT TO ROT OR FIGHT FOR OUR LIVES IN THE FRONTIER!
(The two men were nose to nose now, their voices echoing through the swamp like the clash of swords. The tension was unbearable, each word a dagger aimed at the other's heart.)
Lucian: We did what was necessary to survive! To bring order to a world drowning in chaos!
Bors: Order?! You call enslaving people and destroying their homes "order"? You're nothing but a glorified butcher hiding behind your emperor's corpse! And for God's sake you guys are called the shadow empire!
(Lucian's hand shot to the hilt of his sword, the blade crackling with power as he drew it halfway from its sheath. Bors didn't flinch, his axe raised and ready.)
Lucian: Say that again, and I will end you here and now.
Bors: Go ahead, dragon. Prove me right. Show me the empire's "justice" by spilling more innocent blood.
(The two men stared each other down, their breaths heavy, their bodies trembling with barely restrained fury. But then Lucian sheathed his sword, his hand shaking as he forced himself to step back.)
Lucian: You think you're the only one who's lost something? You think your pain is unique? You have no idea what it's like to bear the weight of an entire world on your shoulders.
Bors: And you have no idea what it's like to fight for scraps, to watch your people fade away because of your so-called "kingdom."
(Silence fell between them, the fire crackling softly as both men struggled to regain their composure. Lucian turned away, his voice quieter but no less intense.)
Lucian: War has taken everything from both of us. But if we keep tearing each other apart, there will be nothing left for anyone.
Bors: Then maybe it's time you stopped pretending your empire is the answer.
(The words hung in the air, heavy with truth and bitterness. Neither man spoke again, the silence a fragile truce between two warriors scarred by the same war.)
(They turned back to the fire, each lost in their thoughts, the weight of their shared pain binding them in a way neither would admit.)
(The air was heavy with the stench of decay and swamp gas as Bors and Lucian finally arrived at their destination. The lair of Lance, the rogue demon mage, loomed ahead—a crumbling fortress overgrown with vines and moss, its dark spires piercing the gloomy sky.
Both dismounted their horses cautiously, weapons at the ready. The eerie silence was unsettling, the usual sounds of the swamp—croaking frogs, buzzing insects—absent. Lucian's sharp eyes scanned the area while Bors gripped his axe tightly.
Bors: Doesn't feel right. Too quiet.
Lucian: Agreed. Stay sharp.
They pushed through the rusted gates and into the fortress, the interior reeking of death. Scattered remains of what appeared to be Lance's followers littered the ground, their bodies twisted in unnatural angles, their faces frozen in terror.
Bors: What in the hells happened here?
Lucian knelt by one of the corpses, his hand brushing over a deep, precise wound in the chest.
Lucian: These are bullets wounds.
They moved deeper into the fortress, the carnage growing worse with each step. Finally, they entered the main chamber—a massive hall with shattered pillars and blood splattered across the walls. In the center of the room lay Lance's lifeless body, slumped against his throne.
His chest was caved in, his eyes wide open in shock. In his hand was a crumpled piece of paper.
Bors: No way... He's already dead?
Lucian approached the body cautiously, his sword drawn. He took the paper from Lance's hand and unfolded it. Written in bold, jagged letters was a single word:
"Ghost."
(The two men exchanged a tense look, the weight of the discovery settling over them like a storm cloud.)
Bors: What the hell does that mean?
Lucian: A warning. Or a message. Either way, someone got to him before we did.
(Bors looked around the room, his grip tightening on his axe.)
Bors: You think this "Ghost" is still here?
Lucian: Doubtful. Whoever they are, they're long gone. But this... (He gestured to the carnage around them.) ...wasn't random. This was intentional.
Bors spat on the ground, his frustration evident.
Bors: We came all this way for nothing. Damn it!
Bors: Great. Another damn problem. Just what I needed.
The portal shimmered in the air as Lucian prepared to leave. Bors stood a few feet away, his arms crossed, his expression of annoyance.
Bors: I guess this is where we part ways, Dragon.
Lucian: Hold on...
Bors raised an eyebrow, shifting his weight impatiently.
Bors: What is it now?
Lucian: I need to talk to you about something. Something important.
(Lucian's tone shifted, carrying an uncharacteristic weight of vulnerability. Bors straightened up, sensing the seriousness in his voice.)
Lucian: I've been having dreams for months now. Visions, perhaps.
Bors: Dreams? A mighty dragon haunted by nightmares? This ought to be good.
Lucian: Mock me if you wish, but listen carefully. The Shadow Star prophesied the coming of other dragons like me but it would be a kin of the prime angels.
(Bors tilted his head, curiosity overcoming his sarcasm.)
Lucian: In my dreams, I see a feral dragon. A beast unlike any other. Its power grows unchecked, and if left to its devices, it will become a threat to all dimensions.
(Bors frowned, processing Lucian's words.)
Bors: You're not making any sense. What kind of dragon are we talking about? No one like that exists.
Lucian: Not yet. But it's coming. And when it does, you must promise me... you will stop it.
(Bors snorted, his usual bravado returning.)
Bors: Why should I? Are you afraid, Dragon?
(Lucian's expression darkened, his eyes glowing faintly.)
Lucian: Horrified.
Bors: You have my empathy, but our deal is done. I'm not a prophet, nor do I chase shadows.
Lucian: I'm not asking you to chase shadows, only to be vigilant. Remember my words.
(Lucian turned toward the portal, his voice low and final.)
Lucian: Goodbye, Bors.
(With that, Lucian stepped through the portal, its edges bursting with energy as it began to close. Bors stood in silence, the weight of the conversation lingering. Then, as the portal was nearly shut, a thought struck him.)
Bors: Wait... do I get to keep the horse?
(Before the portal could fully close, the horse, along with Bors's belongings, leaped through. The saddlebag hit Bors square in the face, knocking him to the ground.)
Bors: Ow! Damn it, Dragon!
(He groaned, rubbing his head as he sat up. The horse neighed from the other side of the portal before it vanished completely.)
Bors: Hey, that's my stuff!
(Looking around at the desolate swamp, Bors let out a long, exasperated sigh.)
Bors: Great. How am I supposed to get home now?
(He hauled himself to his feet, brushing off his armor.)
Bors: Guess I'm walking... Again. Maybe it's time to invest in a damn car.
As he began trudging through the swamp, muttering curses under his breath.