The day dawned gray and overcast, as if even the skies sensed the tension rippling throughout the Black Dragon territories. Damien stood atop a shadowed outcrop, overlooking the massive, ancient structure known simply as the Temple Gate. Its towering obsidian pillars were etched with faintly glowing runes that pulsed rhythmically, resonating with a deep hum of energy.
Blackie stood silently at his side, violet eyes narrowed in thought. Rage Monkey sat cross-legged near the edge, chewing quietly on a banana, while Fluffy paced impatiently, twirling his immense new sword with exaggerated pride.
A crowd had gathered in front of the gate.
Elite dragons, their retainers, and a handful of fighting prisoners carefully selected by the Matriarch. Yet despite the gathering's size, whispers of dissatisfaction rippled among those at the periphery.
