The great Dragon, Mainu, fell through the void, the nanite infection accelerating the mitochondrial meltdown within his ancient body. He accepted his death, yet one single, crystalline shard of hope refused to shatter: his child. The lie he had clung to, that the contract fading meant his child lived, was the only thing the Krill's schemes had left him.
When the ancient, terrifying whisper, V'yith-k'tharr, N'gah-shoggoth... (Do you seek power?) resonated through his soul, it offered a lifeline to that impossible hope.
Power to find them. Power to save them.
"Yes," Mainu thought, the answer a desperate, roaring affirmation in the non-sound. "I accept. Give me the power. I refuse to believe they are gone."
The power surged. It was a cold, alien torrent that flooded his mind, driving out the pain of the nanites. But with the power came a new presence—a consciousness so vast, so malignant, that Mainu's soul felt like a single, fragile water droplet swallowed by a cosmic ocean.
