The dragons of Adistaktos called it The Festival of Strength. Seven nights of blood, flame, and spectacle.
And this year, it was hosted by Segrenry Exhugh at the arena.
The Arena of Drakoryth sprawled across twenty acres of consecrated ground, a colossal coliseum. Its outer walls rose like mountains — forged from adamant brick and shadowstone, a fusion of unbreakable earth and long-dead flame, bound together by old runes.
Within, the amphitheater has sweeping circles lined with bowl-shaped seats carved from pure onyx, each vast enough to hold a dragon in full splendor. The dark stone shimmered with draconian enchantments, shifting in warmth or chill to suit the will of whoever rested upon it.
At the heart of it all lay the Grand Ground, a vast circle of red sand, scarred by centuries
