The battlefield was silent now. Where once roars and clashing steel filled the air, only the wind whispered through the lifeless remains. Bodies of dragons and warriors lay still; their swords scattered like fallen stars across the crimson-stained earth.
At the heart of it all, the Dragon King took his final breath.
Typhon's massive form lay broken, blood glistening on his scaled skin. His once-burning eyes now dimmed, yet a quiet strength lingered in them. Nara, his dearest, lay beside him—barely breathing. And by his side knelt Chrysantha, cradling his head in her lap, her pearl-like tears falling onto his battle-worn face.
A priest emerged from the mist; his robes soaked in ash and blood. Typhon turned to him weakly.
"Seal my swords… scatter them across the world. Hide their souls where even time may forget," he commanded, his voice a dying growl. "I should've been stronger… for you… my Chrysantha."
He looked at Nara, then back at Chrysantha. "Take care of her. She will cry, I know… but never let her inner flames die."
"No! No, you can't—" Chrysantha sobbed, clutching him tighter. "You are the strongest… someone betrayed you, I know it! I swear, I will avenge you."
Her voice cracked with pain, her grief pouring like fire through her words.
"Don't say things like that, my Lord!" Teresina cried, holding his hand tightly. "You're not just a king. You are the Dragon King. The most powerful… the one we all believed in!"
But the light in Typhon's eyes faded, and with one final exhale, he was gone.
"Stop being weak," the priest's voice rang out, stern and unshaken. "Your king is dead, yet his aura still trembles through this land. It feels as if this realm might break apart."
The others turned to him, stunned, as he continued."We must leave. As far and as fast as we can. If we stay, the next king will come—driven by greed, seeking what remains of the Seven Swords. Especially you, Chrysantha."
"What?! Chrysantha?" Petra snapped, eyes wide. "Hey, you old priest, do you know what you're saying?" She stepped forward, fists clenched. "No one can bear her aura! If anyone even tries to touch her—her power alone would tear them apart. There's no one left who can withstand her!"
She repeated the warning she'd heard many times from their fallen lord.
But the priest's eyes were grim. "You still don't understand… You don't know your enemies. If they had the cunning to betray the Dragon King, they may already have plans in motion to take this realm—and to claim Chrysantha as their own."
Petra fell silent.
"Don't shout," Obelia said softly, tears glimmering in her golden eyes. "He might be right. Before we came to this battle, he told me… to protect Chrysantha. No matter what. He knew something."
The priest gave a silent nod, then turned toward the group with resolve. "It's time."
From his robes, he pulled out seven pendants, each one glowing with ancient energy. "Wear these. You will be sealed—hidden beyond reach, until the time is right."
One by one, they took the pendants. Chrysantha hesitated, her tear-streaked face trembling.
"I know you'll come back… my Lord," she whispered as she clutched the pendant and allowed herself to be sealed.
The priest turned to his most trusted disciple, standing at the edge of the battlefield. "Athen. Take these swords—guard them with your life. Bury them where no evil or greedy soul can ever reach them."
He tossed the scattered blades to Athen, who caught them with reverence and mounted his dragon.
"But… where will you go?" Athen called after him.
The priest glanced back, eyes shadowed beneath his hood. "To the North."
And with that, he vanished.
Moments later, the realm collapsed—shattered by the lingering echo of Typhon's power. The battlefield was no more. Every soul was gone.
But the swords…The swords still whispered.