Sorry it's a bit late, I have had a very hectic day rushing around and forgot to upload.
Anyway, hope you enjoy
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The ruins of Stygai crumbled behind us, swallowed again by mist and shadow. Our ship cut through the black waters like a dagger, the skies above churning with angry clouds. Xyron flew overhead, a shimmering shadow against the lightning-raked heavens, his massive wings scattering the stormwinds.
But even the dragon's might could not still the unease gnawing at my soul.
The Ring of Nightfire pulsed against my finger, its fire singing to the embers inside me. It had changed something - opened a door within myself that I could no longer close. I could feel it even now: an untamed power swirling beneath my skin, like molten steel yearning to be forged.
Otherys watched me from across the deck, his brow furrowed. He said nothing - he didn't need to. We both knew: the path ahead would be darker than any we had walked before.
As if answering my thoughts, Xyron let out a low, rumbling growl from above. His mind brushed against mine - a wordless warning, sharp and cold.
We were not alone.
Suddenly, the waters around us boiled and frothed. Figures rose from the deep - not men, but things - half-flesh, half-coral, their bodies armored with shells and barnacles, eyes glowing like drowned stars.
The Deepborn.
Ancient servants of the seas, guardians of forgotten powers. Their presence here was no accident.
"They come for the Ring," Otherys hissed, drawing his blade.
The largest of the creatures lifted a trident of blackened bone and hissed in a tongue older than Valyria. The very waves obeyed its call, surging toward the ship in towering walls of water.
I stood firm at the prow, heart hammering. The fire within me roared, eager to be unleashed.
"Xyron!" I called across the bond we now shared.
The dragon heard me - and answered.
He dove, a comet of crimson and silver, and as he passed overhead, something ignited between us.
Not just fire - something deeper. Emberstorm.
I thrust my hand forward - and the sky itself seemed to catch fire. A maelstrom of flame and lightning erupted from my outstretched palm, racing across the waters. Xyron roared, adding his breath to mine, weaving dragonfire into the heart of the storm.
The Deepborn shrieked as the inferno consumed them, their coral armor cracking and melting like wax. The sea boiled white-hot, steam rising in thick clouds.
When the last of the creatures sank into the depths, silence returned.
I staggered back, chest heaving, the ring on my finger glowing brighter than ever before.
Otherys approached cautiously, wiping blood from his blade. "What... was that?"
I looked toward Xyron, who circled overhead, his molten-gold eyes gleaming with approval.
"A new bond," I said quietly. "A new power."
The third flame had awakened the Emberstorm - the fusion of dragon and rider, fire and soul.
And with it, I would carve a path through the enemies yet to come.
For beyond the storm, beyond the horizon, lay the Shadow Lands - and the final two flames awaited.
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ShadowsBeneaththeAshMoon
The Shadow Lands loomed before us - a place even Valyrian maps dared not fully mark. Beneath the wan, ashen moon, jagged mountains cut into the sky like broken teeth, and the black shores of the coast bled mist and whispers.
Our ship scraped onto the gravel, the wood groaning in protest. No welcome fires awaited us here, only the cold stare of the unknown.
Otherys disembarked first, his sword drawn and wary. Xyron landed nearby with a thud that made the earth tremble, his wings folding tightly against his crimson-silver scales. He sniffed the air, hackles rising.
"We are being watched," Otherys said grimly.
He was right.
Figures emerged from the fog - not Deepborn, not wraiths, but men. Cloaked and masked, their armor a strange blend of gold and black, worked with symbols I did not recognize. At their lead was a woman - tall, with silver hair braided down her back and violet eyes that gleamed like amethysts even in the dim light.
She spoke in a lilting, ancient tongue - a dialect of High Valyrian so old I barely understood it.
"Child of Flame... why have you come?"
I stepped forward, heart steady. "To reclaim what was lost. To awaken the flames that remain."
The woman studied me, her gaze piercing. "Many have come seeking power. Most found only death."
Otherys tensed beside me, ready to fight - but I raised a hand, halting him.
"I do not seek power alone," I said. "I seek the rebirth of a legacy that should never have been forgotten."
The woman's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. She gestured for us to follow.
We were led up a winding path into the mountains, where the mist grew thicker, almost alive. Strange statues loomed from the rocks - winged beasts with empty eyes, ancient runes carved into their weathered hides.
At the summit, a vast temple sprawled - black stone and silver fire, older than any Valyrian stronghold I had seen. At its heart burned a pyre, and above it floated a shard of flame suspended in midair - the Fourth Flame.
But as I stepped closer, the woman barred my path with her staff.
"You must earn it," she said. "As your blood did long ago."
At her signal, warriors emerged - not with weapons drawn, but each radiating a different aura: strength, speed, cunning, endurance, wisdom. Five trials. Five aspects of a true Dragonlord.
"Only one who masters all may claim the Fourth Flame," the woman intoned.
I smiled grimly, feeling Xyron's spirit stir alongside mine.
"Then let them come," I said.
The trials awaited.
And beyond them, the true beginning of my rise.
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Hope you enjoyed.