The world froze.
She wasn’t just a girl anymore. She was ethereal, Primal.
Wings stretched wide, white as snow and vast enough to darken the battlefield. Each beat made the air tremble, shaking even my bones. Her scales caught the moonlight, gleaming irridecent-white, each scale flawless, unbroken. Her body was lean and strong, built for the sky, every movement precise and terrifying in its beauty.
Horns arched back from her head like a crown, pale and gleaming. Her eyes burned violet—unnatural, impossible, a color that belonged to no nation, no bloodline. It was the color of the Gods.
The legends had spoken of her kind. The first dragon. The balance of the world. A story so old we all called it myth. Yet here she was, hanging above the earth, godlike and terrible, every soldier below
