The sky burned.

  Fmes streaked the clouds, lightning danced across the shattered heavens, and the very earth trembled beneath the csh of powers not meant for mortal hands. Once a nd of peace, of bance, of reverence, the sacred valley now y broken — shattered stone and charred forest marking where gods once walked and bled.

  Nine dragons had ruled this world. Nine primordial beings, each tied to the elements that birthed creation: Earth, Water, Wind, Fire, Thunder, Ice, Shadow, Light… and Time.

  And now, only one remained.

  Chronyxis, the Dragon of Time, soared above the battlefield — a creature of impossible majesty, wings unfurling like ripples through dimensions. His scales glistened in colors that didn’t belong in this world: obsidian overid with the violet shimmer of colpsing stars. With each beat of his wings, the wind warped. With each breath, seconds bent and danced.

  Below, armies gathered. Elves in silverlight armor, dwarves wielding thundersteel, human mages chanting forbidden spells in perfect unison. A coalition of the world’s strongest, united by one cause: to bring down the gods they once worshipped.

  “We raised them from ash,” their kings had said. “We gave them names, and they demanded worship. Now, we shall remind them who truly rules this world.”

  Chronyxis nded in the heart of the battlefield, the ground beneath him folding inwards under his weight. Even with most of his kin gone — fallen in battle, sealed in ice, sin by betrayal — he stood tall. But in his ancient heart, he felt it.

  The end of an era.

  All around him, the remnants of his siblings were scattered — bones of Pyrrhazel still smoldering miles away, Seryndel’s frost now used by mortals to forge their weapons, Elyndros’ st light locked in holy relics. Time itself wept, and so did he.

  He gazed upon the gathered armies, thousands strong, standing on nds carved by his very breath ages ago. He could feel their fear. Beneath their weapons and war chants, they trembled.

  Not one among them had ever seen a god this close.

  And yet, they would kill him.

  He could have fled. A twist of reality, a fold in the timeline, and he would be beyond their reach. But escape was not his purpose. Not anymore.

  He bowed his head, whispering not to them, but to the world.

  “We made you. And still, you choose the void.”

  A single tear rolled from his burning eye, hissing as it hit the ground.

  Across the valley, a hundred staves lit at once — casting not spells, but seals. Ancient bindings passed down through blood, stolen from the dragons’ own legacy. They glowed with hatred. And fear.

  Time slowed.

  Chronyxis did not move. Around him, memories fluttered like echoes: the deep ughter of Gaiadrak, the warm tides of Neryssa, the wild howls of Aurevon racing through mountain peaks. His family. His kin. Gone.

  “Let them come,” he whispered to the storm.

  The attack began.

  Bolts of magic tore through the sky like a meteor shower, each spell carrying enough power to level cities. Chronyxis raised his wings, but not to shield himself — no. He let them come. As they struck, time buckled. The spells froze midair, the battlefield turned quiet. Birds, raindrops, even breath itself… stilled.

  Chronyxis walked between seconds.

  He saw the spellcasters mid-chant, lips unmoving. Soldiers mid-scream, faces twisted in fear they had yet to feel. He passed them all like a ghost, his cw trailing the air, his breath heavy.

  “Is this what you feared so much? That we would remain gods, and you never would?”

  He released time.

  The world resumed — and with it, came pain. A hundred spells struck him at once. His roar echoed across the continents, heard even in realms far from the war.

  He colpsed.

  But not in defeat.

  His body fell into the distant gcier beyond the edge of the battlefield, breaking the mountain open like gss. The ice responded — not by shattering, but by embracing him. It folded over him like a second skin, crystalline and eternal. A tomb, or perhaps a cocoon.

  The armies searched. They waited. But they never found the body.

  In the decades that followed, they decred victory. Monuments were raised. Stories were told. The dragons were gone. The world belonged to mortals now.

  But far beneath the ice, in a world untouched by time… something pulsed.

  A heartbeat.

  A flicker of breath.

  A name, whispered across centuries.

  Chronyxis.