Chapter 62: Wings Over Durnstahl
The first attack came swift, like a shadow torn from the sky.
The Iron Empire's capital—Durnstahl, the city of blackstone walls and silver towers—roared to life in a blaze of bells and fire. The sun had not yet risen when the clouds above split open to reveal a nightmarish silhouette: a dragon of molten bone and smoke, easily the size of a fortress.
Not Antares.
But one of his lieutenants.
Vharaxx the World-Burner, once thought slain in the Wyrm Purge three centuries ago, descended with a shriek that shattered glass across the capital.
Flames that screamed devoured Durnstahl's outer walls.
Its famed skyfleet—twelve imperial airships—rose to meet the threat.
Only three survived the first minute.
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Within the city, civilians ran as dragonkin poured from the sky. Fire drakes, skyrazors, winged serpents of unnatural birth. The streets became rivers of ash.
But Durnstahl did not fall quietly.
Valeria Durnstahl, already clad in aura-forged armor, stood atop her citadel spire. Her warhammer glowed red-hot from the inside out.
> "To the heart, my brothers. No retreat."
She leapt from the tower—and met Vharaxx in the sky.
Their clash turned night to blinding day.
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Far north, Jean watched the battle through a projection conjured by the Magistery's seers. The council room was silent—until the vision ended in a flash of white fire.
Jean turned to the generals, emissaries, and sovereigns behind her.
> "We leave now."
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Within hours, the unified force—the Vanguard of Light—was on the move.
Legions of Luther warriors marched alongside Magistery battlemagi, the Iron Dukes' sky-knights, Shadow Guild assassins, and divine beasts. Never before had the world moved so quickly, so cohesively.
At the helm was Jean, astride Whitney, whose fur bristled with divine aura, his eyes locked on the horizon.
Beside her flew Karen, lightning trailing in her wake, her guardian eagle screeching warnings only she could hear.
Behind them, banners of many colors waved—yet all bore the same mark: the burning crown encircled by wings. The symbol of resistance.
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When they reached the outskirts of Durnstahl, the sky was black.
But not from night.
From wings.
Hundreds—thousands—of dragons had joined the siege. The outer city lay in ruin. But the citadel still stood. And from its shattered gates, aura still burned.
Valeria still lived.
Jean raised her sword high. The Light of Celeste flared along the blade.
> "No more waiting," she said.
> "The Dragon War has begun."
And with a single command, the world charged.
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