Chapter 20: Bones and Flickering Flames

The sun hung low over Old Valyria, casting long, trembling shadows across the shattered ruins and blackened earth.

The air was thick with the scent of ash and ancient magic, and a cool breeze whispered through broken columns and cracked stone. High above the ruined city, the dragon's powerful wings beat steadily as he descended toward a vast valley hidden within the desolation.

Below him sprawled a sight unlike any he had ever seen an immense graveyard of bones, massive and pale against the darkened ground. Towering skeletons of dragons, far larger than any he had encountered before, stretched across the valley floor. Their rib cages arched like stone arches, some bones so broad that his entire body could fit inside their hollow spaces. Skulls with jagged teeth and wide-open jaws lay scattered among the ash, worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain. The sheer scale of these remains was overwhelming, dwarfing him despite his growing size.

As he landed gently between these relics of a long-lost era, the cold stone beneath his claws sent a shiver through him. The stillness was profound, broken only by the faint crackling of firelight flickering nearby. Moving carefully, he noticed the fireworms small, slender dragons with sinuous necks and bright eyes gliding among the bones. Their scales shimmered with a faint glow, as if they were lit from within by embers of burning coal. These fireworms didn't roar or threaten; instead, they moved with a quiet grace, warming the cold shadows with their soft, flickering flames.

The dragon watched silently, fascinated by their gentle presence. The fireworms weaved through the skeletal remains, their glowing bodies casting dancing light across the bones and shadows. It was as if these small creatures were guardians of the past, preserving the memory of the mighty dragons whose bones lay crumbled beneath their feet. The flickering firelight seemed to breathe life into the silent valley, giving warmth to the ashes of history.

He stepped slowly among the bones, the enormity of them reminding him of the dragons' lost glory. This place was a kingdom of the dead, yet the fireworms' glow made it feel alive. He traced the curve of a massive ribcage with his claw, its surface cold and cracked. Above him loomed the skull of a dragon so huge that its eye sockets were wider than any hall he had ever known. The emptiness there spoke of power and silence, of fierce battles long ended.

The dragon felt a strange mixture of emotions stir within him respect, awe, and a deep, aching loneliness. These were the ancestors of his kind, dragons that had flown higher and burned brighter. Yet here they lay, reduced to bones and shadows, reminders of a world that had been consumed by fire and time. He breathed softly, the warmth of his own fire mixing with the faint light of the fireworms, and for a moment, he felt the weight of their legacy settle over him like a cloak.

Around him, the fireworms continued their gentle dance, their flames casting long, flickering shadows on the cracked stones. They reminded him that even in death, the flame endured. It was a quiet, patient flame waiting, watching, and ready to ignite again.

For a long time, he remained there, among the bones and the glowing fireworms. The valley was a place of memory and loss, but also of hope. The dragons of old might have fallen, but their spirit lived on in the bones beneath his feet, in the embers of the fireworms' glow, and in the wild fire burning within him.

Finally, with a deep breath and a powerful stretch of his wings, he lifted into the cooling sky. The fireworms scattered back into the shadows, their glowing bodies fading like stars retreating at dawn. As he soared above the ruined city, the stars began to pierce the darkness, ancient witnesses to the story written in bones and flame.

He flew on, carrying the echoes of the past with him, knowing that though the dragons of old were gone, their legacy was far from extinguished.

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