The search for the truth had brought Alistair and his companions to the far reaches of the kingdom, to a place few dared to go—the ancient dragon caves hidden deep within the mountains. Legends told of a time when dragons roamed free across Drakenor, their power unmatched, and their wisdom sought by kings and warriors alike.
But the dragons had long since disappeared, leaving behind only their legacy, buried in the caverns that lay before them.
Alistair led the way, torch in hand, with Elyndra and Borin close behind. The air grew colder as they descended into the caverns, the walls glittering with veins of crystal that pulsed faintly with an otherworldly light.
"This place... it's like nothing I've ever seen," Elyndra whispered, her voice echoing in the vast chamber. "Do you think we'll find anything that can help us?"
Borin grunted as he examined the walls. "If the dragons left anything behind, it'll be hidden well. They were wise creatures, but they didn't part with their secrets easily."
As they ventured deeper, they came across ancient carvings on the walls, depicting the history of the dragon riders—the chosen few who had been granted the honor of riding the mighty beasts into battle. Alistair studied the carvings carefully.
"There," he said, pointing to an inscription. "It speaks of a weapon—a relic left behind by the dragons. Something powerful enough to protect the kingdom in times of great peril."
Elyndra frowned. "But the dragons are gone. If this weapon still exists, why didn't they use it during the wars?"
Borin nodded, his brow furrowed. "Maybe they knew it wasn't time yet. Or perhaps the weapon can only be wielded by someone worthy."
As they delved further into the cave, they finally reached a massive chamber. At its center stood a pedestal, and resting atop it was a sword unlike any they had ever seen. Its blade shimmered with the light of the crystals surrounding it, and the hilt was etched with ancient runes.
Alistair approached cautiously. "The Dragon's Legacy..." he murmured, his hand hovering over the sword. "This must be the weapon."
Just as he reached for it, a voice echoed through the chamber, low and menacing. "Not so fast, Alistair."
From the shadows, the hooded figure they had been tracking emerged, their face still hidden. "You think you can claim the dragons' legacy so easily? It was not meant for you."
Alistair drew his own sword, eyes narrowing. "Who are you? And why are you so determined to see this kingdom fall?"
The figure chuckled darkly. "The dragons may be gone, but their power still lingers. And it will not be given to those unworthy. You are no king, Alistair. You are but a pretender."
Before Alistair could respond, the figure disappeared into the shadows, leaving him standing before the sword. His heart raced as he looked down at the weapon, knowing that the fate of the kingdom could rest in his hands.
But was he truly worthy of wielding the Dragon's Legacy? That was a question only time could answer.