The final chamber of the Dragon Tower loomed ahead, its entrance a yawning maw of obsidian fangs and molten veins. Alone, Kas stood before it, his scales flickering with inner heat, his wings tucked close to his powerful frame. His eyes, once gleaming with reckless chaos, now burned with something deeper: clarity sharpened by trials survived.
This was the last gate.
Behind him, George and Typhon stood far below at the base of the tower, watching the pillar of flame that marked the entrance to the fourth and final trial.
Kas turned his head, glancing down once more. He didn't wave.
He didn't need to.
He stepped forward—and the world disappeared.
The sky overhead boiled with chaos. Clouds of black flame and electric smoke surged in waves, shifting colors and shapes like a sentient storm. Kas now stood at the edge of a volcanic wasteland, rivers of lava coursing like veins in the cracked stone. The air trembled with power. The ground breathed.
