Fury

The rebel forces moved like a storm through the Dragon King's lands, a relentless wave of dragons who had endured centuries of tyranny. The once-majestic countryside was left scarred by their advance—burned forests, shattered mountainsides, and broken fortifications told the story of their path. For every loyalist who stood in their way, a rebel dragon answered with fiery determination, their shared purpose burning as fiercely as the flames they wielded.

At the vanguard of the rebellion was Vera, the Forgotten Queen, her presence a symbol of vengeance and hope. Her wings, black as obsidian, cast long shadows over the battlefield as she led the charge. Her magic, untamed by years of slumber, was a terrifying sight to behold—every swing of her sword cleaved through enemy lines, her spells reducing even the mightiest loyalists to ash.

Behind her, Evander coordinated the forces with a commanding presence, his tactical mind ensuring that their progress was efficient and decisive. Dragons flanked the loyalist forces from above and below, their precision honed by months of preparation and their spirits bolstered by the presence of their queen.

The battles were fierce. In the skies, dragons clashed with teeth, claws, and bursts of elemental magic, their roars shaking the heavens. On the ground, the rebels faced traps and fortifications meant to delay their progress. Alaric's loyalists fought with desperation, knowing their defeat meant the end of the Dragon King's reign, but the rebels' resolve proved unshakable.

As they approached the heart of the Dragon King's territory, the battles grew more brutal. The castle of the Dragon King loomed in the distance, its silhouette cutting an imposing figure against the blood-red sky. Black, jagged spires rose high into the clouds, wreathed in defensive wards and guarded by the king's most elite dragons.

Vera and Evander led the rebels into the fray. "Stay close!" Evander commanded, his voice booming across the battlefield. "Break their formation, but don't lose sight of the castle!"

The loyalist forces outside the castle fought with ferocity, their discipline a stark contrast to the chaos around them. Even so, they began to falter as the rebels' numbers and resolve overwhelmed them. The rebels were determined, fighting with everything they had, each of them knowing this was their one chance to free their kind from tyranny.

When the final loyalist fell outside the castle walls, the battlefield fell silent save for the crackle of flames and the howling wind. Bloodied and weary but unbroken, the rebels turned their eyes to the gates of the Dragon King's stronghold.

"It's not over yet," Vera said, her voice calm but resolute. She stepped forward, her hand gripping her sword tightly. "We press on. Together."

With a powerful swing of her blade, Vera unleashed a shockwave of magic that shattered the castle gates. The rebel forces surged inside, their wings beating against the storm brewing above. Inside, the corridors were dark and winding, every turn revealing traps and ambushes designed to delay their progress. The rebels spread out to search for Alaric, determined to find the Dragon King in the labyrinthine stronghold.

Vera moved ahead of the others, her heart heavy with anticipation and dread. She knew where he would be—at the heart of the castle, the throne room where he had ruled for centuries.

As she approached the great doors leading to the throne room, the air grew thick with tension. The walls seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, the remnants of Alaric's power woven into every stone. She pushed the doors open, her sword at the ready.

Beyond the threshold, the battlefield stretched out again. The throne room was open to the sky, its walls shattered long ago, leaving the floor littered with rubble and exposed to the elements. The castle's broken remains formed a jagged arena, the perfect stage for the confrontation that was to come.

And there, standing amidst the desolation, was Alaric.

He stepped forward, his golden eyes scanning the rebels as they poured into the throne room. But his gaze fixed on Vera, his expression cold and calculating. "So," he said, his voice echoing across the ruins, "you've come to finish what you started."

The rebels stopped at the edges of the battlefield, their focus shifting entirely to Vera.

She floated forward, her black wings spreading wide, her sword gleaming with the light of her magic. "Missed me?" she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

Alaric's cold mask faltered for the briefest moment, a flicker of something—recognition, disbelief, or perhaps regret—crossing his face. "Vera? But how…? I… You…" His voice, though controlled, carried a note of something deeply buried, something that even centuries of tyranny could not erase.

The tension between them crackled like lightning in the air, and the rebels watched in silence, knowing the battle ahead would decide the fate of their kind.

With a powerful flap of her wings, Vera launched herself toward Alaric, her speed leaving no time for hesitation. "Alaric, you may have caught me by surprise in the cave but have you forgotten?" she said, her voice ringing out like a challenge. "I am no less powerful than you."

The clash of their blades marked the beginning of a battle that would shake the very foundation of the castle, the skies above roaring in resonance with the fury of the Forgotten Queen and the Dragon King.