The tunnel was immense—as vast as the throat of a sleeping titan. The darkness was broken only by the faint light of ancient crystals embedded in the walls, pulsing with an energy that seemed alive, as if the world itself breathed there. The three dragons flew side by side — Strax in front, his eyes fixed ahead, his obsidian-black wings cutting through the dense air; Ouroboros on the left, silent but alert, and Tiamat on the right, her golden eyes attentive to every vibration in the rock walls.
The air there was not just hot — it was heavy. As if something awaited at the end of that colossal corridor. The space was so wide that even an army of dragons could fly through it in formation. Ancient structures carved directly into the rock jutted out from the walls like forgotten columns, as if the tunnel had been created by the hands of a long-extinct people — or by dragons from forgotten ages.
The silence was broken by Ouroboros.
