The forest explodes in light and heat. A roar splits the heavens, so vast it rattles your bones and shakes the earth beneath your feet. Above the treetops, wings like burning sails stretch wide, each beat scattering embers into the night. Flames race from trunk to trunk, devouring bark and branch in a storm of fire.
Through the inferno, the shape takes form—jaws the size of gates, scales that glow like molten stone, eyes that blaze brighter than the sun. This is no mere beast of legend. This is the legend, the dread name whispered in every hall and tavern: The Drake Omega.
The air itself sears your lungs, and instinct drives you stumbling back through smoke and falling ash. You find the ranger still prone, his breath ragged but his eyes now wide with fear as the firelight reflects in them. He grips your arm weakly, his voice trembling as he forces words past cracked lips.
“Do not face it now… you cannot. Not yet. Go—find the village. Speak with Bryn, the Smith. He… he once bore the title of Dragonslayer. If any man yet lives who knows how to fight this doom, it is him.”
The ranger collapses again, coughing, while the trees behind you collapse in pillars of flame. The path forward is certain—though danger dogs every step.
[Head to the Nearest Village Smith to continue…]