Tempest Isle rose from the ocean like a monument to draconic power, its peaks could not be seen through all the clouds.
At the island's heart, in a caldera so vast it could have housed entire cities, Typhon the Dragon King lounged with the casual arrogance of something that had never known defeat.
His form was incomprehensible in its true scale. Eyes larger than houses, scales that could have been mistaken for mountains.
Wings that, when fully extended, could have blotted out the sun itself.
Around him, dozens of lesser dragons perched on volcanic rock, each one powerful enough to devastate kingdoms but utterly insignificant compared to their king.
"Show me again," Typhon's voice was continental plates grinding together, each word creating sounds that made the very air vibrate with power.
"Show me the insect who killed Spiralus."
One of the dragons, a massive red wyrm who served as Typhon's herald, gestured with talons the size of siege weapons.
