Agheel retaliated with sweeping claws and fiery breaths, but the ghostflame absorbed the brunt of its assaults, leaving him unscathed.
As the battle raged on, he noticed the dragon's movements becoming more erratic.
The ghostflame was taking its toll, draining the beast's strength with every passing moment. Nyra's relentless strikes added to the pressure, her blades carving deep wounds that bled molten ichor.
Finally, he saw his opening. Agheel reared back, preparing to unleash another torrent of flame. He gathered the ghostflame in both hands, shaping it into a spear of concentrated energy. With a fierce cry, he hurled the spear toward the dragon's chest.
The ghostflame struck true, piercing through Agheel's armor and embedding itself in its heart. The dragon let out one final, agonized roar before collapsing onto the shore, its massive body shuddering as the ghostflame consumed it from within.
He stood over the fallen beast, his breath heavy but steady. The ghostflame flickered faintly in his palm, its energy spent but victorious. Nyra approached, wiping the blood from her daggers as she surveyed the scene.
"Well," she said. "That was something."
He crouched beside the dragon's body, his hand resting on its still-burning heart. The ghostflame flared briefly, drawing the last remnants of the beast's power into himself.
When he rose, his eyes glinted with a new intensity, the ghostflame in his palm burning brighter than ever.
"It's done," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "heart is ours."
Nyra shook her head, her smirk fading into something more contemplative. "You're either the boldest man I've ever met or the most reckless."
"Maybe both," he replied, turning his gaze toward the horizon.
Nyra slowly approached him, her footsteps light. She stopped behind him, running a hand through his hair to brush away the dust and grime. Her fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, but he didn't acknowledge it. He simply stared at the horizon, the calm of the moment settling over him.
"We're done here," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. "Where are you going next?"
He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze meeting hers for a brief moment before returning to the distant, rising sun. "A familiar place. Coastal cave," he said.
Nyra raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Coastal cave?" she repeated. "That's where you're heading next?"
"It's time to settle something," he said, voice low but unwavering. "Time to get my revenge on those damn demi-humans inside that cave."
The journey to the coastal cave was brief. The storm had subsided by the time they arrived, leaving behind a cold mist that clung to the jagged rocks.
He stood at the edge, his gaze narrowing as he surveyed the surroundings. The memories of the past were fresh in his mind—too fresh. The demi-humans. He could feel the rage building again, his fingers tingling.
Nyra stood beside him, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her daggers.
With a single nod, they moved forward.
The air inside the cave was thick with the smell of damp earth and decay. The dim light from their torches barely pierced the darkness, but they could make out the shadows of the demi-humans ahead.
They moved swiftly, silently. He could feel the presence of the creatures—he had no doubt they were aware of his approach.
He charged first, his body a blur as he stepped into the open. Ghostflame swirled in his palm, its eerie glow lighting up the cave's walls as he hurled it toward the nearest demi-human. The blast of energy consumed the creature in an instant, its screams echoing as it disintegrated into nothing.
Nyra was right behind him, her daggers flashing as she slashed through the remaining demi-humans. They were no match for the speed and precision of her strikes. One by one, they fell, their bodies crumpling to the cold stone floor.
The leader of the demi-humans, a towering brute, snarled as he raised his weapon—a crude, jagged axe. "You dare?" he growled, charging toward them with wild fury.
He didn't hesitate. The ghostflame gathered once more, and with a roar, he launched it straight at the brute. The blast struck the creature square in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground in a pile of ash and bones.
Silence fell in the wake of the battle, broken only by the crackling of the dying torches. The cave was still. The demi-humans were gone.
Nyra was beside him, wiping the blood from her blades with a look of grim satisfaction.
"It's done," she said quietly, glancing at the wreckage around them. "You got your revenge."
He nodded, his eyes scanning the remains of the cave. "Yes," he said simply, his voice cold but resolute. "Now we move on."
They exited the cave, stepping into the open air. The morning sun had broken through the mist, casting a soft light across the rugged coastline. The waves crashed against the rocks below, their sound a steady rhythm that seemed to calm the tension still lingering in the air.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
He looked at the church in front of him, remembering that this was the place where his eyes had first opened to the world.
As he walked toward the Church of the Dragon Communion, the memories flooded back. This was where it all began—the place where everything had shifted.
The church, nestled at the edge of the coast, stood as imposing as it was ancient. Its weathered stone walls bore faint markings of long-forgotten rituals, but it still exuded an eerie sense of power.
Nyra followed closely behind.
He reached the entrance of the church.
It didn't take long for Nyra to connect the dots—dragon heart and the Dragon Communion church?
"Don't tell me you're going for the Dragon Communion ritual?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.