CHAPTER 60.

Chapter 60: The First Flame Wakes

It began with the scream of the earth.

Not a tremor. Not a quake.

But a howl—a sound that shattered stone and sent flocks of birds spiraling from the skies across every continent.

The volcano of Vel'tharak, long dead in the southern wastes, erupted with no warning. From its mouth burst no ordinary fire—but black flame, laced with gold, that shimmered with ancient hunger.

The sky turned crimson.

And the world felt it:

Antares had risen.

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From the depths of the shattered caldera, the Dragon Lord emerged.

Wreathed in molten wings, armored in obsidian scale, his eyes were twin furnaces of hatred and divine fury. The wound that Martin Luther once carved through his chest had closed—scarred by a thousand years of rage.

He roared—and the world trembled.

In the ruins of Vel'tharak, lesser dragons rose like an ocean of wings. Ash dragons, thunder wyverns, scaled drakes, wyrmkin bred in forgotten pits—they surged forth, bound not only by Antares' call but by something older.

A war not just of destruction.

But of purging.

> "Humans are rot," Antares thundered, his voice heard in the minds of all.

> "You were gifted the world, and you poisoned it. I gave you a thousand years to prove me wrong. You proved me right."

His wings unfurled. With a single beat, he blotted out the sun above the southern sky.

> "The age of dragons begins now."

And thus, the Dragon War began.

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In the northern stronghold, Jean fell to her knees as the earth screamed beneath her.

Whitney howled beside her—his divine senses writhing in pain.

Iriah rushed to her side.

> "What is that?! What was that?!"

Jean's eyes were wide, unfocused—her aura blazing uncontrollably.

> "He's awake," she whispered.

> "Antares is awake."

Envoy scouts burst into the war hall moments later, barely able to speak. Reports came like daggers—real and raw:

Southern forts gone dark.

Dragon sightings across the Great Divide.

A thunderwyrm razing a Magistery outpost near the Blackwall Forest.

An entire Iron Legion vaporized by a firestorm on the Ash Plains.

Jean rose, breath steadying.

> "Gather the Patriarchs. All of them."

> "Even the Magus?" Iriah asked.

> "All of them," Jean repeated. "This war is not between kingdoms."

> "It's for the world."

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As messengers rode to the far ends of the known lands, Jean ascended the holy chamber beneath Luther Stronghold—the place where her goddess, Celeste, first named her Emissary.

Before the crystal altar, she bowed.

And prayed.

> "Give me your strength. Give me the light."

A voice, warm and infinite, answered in her soul.

> "You are my flame, Jean Luther. Now burn for them."

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