The crater was still burning.
From the thousands of cracks across the ground, steam and lava poured out as if the ground were bleeding.
At its center lay the black dragon—its colossal body split cleanly in half.
The wound was so deep it carved through its core, where molten organs still steamed.
Its tail twitched once, twice… then went still.
But the silence wasn't peace.
Because near its dead body, surrounded by purple flames, lay Raven.
His dragon body was torn apart—sliced from shoulder to torso. Scales crumbled into ash, his wings lay tattered like broken glass, and as he bled out, the red faded from his skin.
Slowly, painfully, his draconic form began to melt away, revealing his human body beneath—pale, burned, and trembling with each shallow breath.
Turns out, he hadn't been able to avoid Graye's attack.
He did move away at the last moment, avoiding instant death, but the strike still injured him enough to put him in this condition.
Now, he was bleeding out.
