The dragon reared, unmoved by the sword's gleam, its eyes cold moons, unswayed by the ring. Torin charged, blade slashing through the air, meeting scales with a clang that rattled his bones. The beast's claws raked the ice, its breath a blast of frozen shards. "O heavens, heed me—torch the sky!" he cried, and his sword's song rose, pulling flame-rivers from the clouds. Fire wept down, searing the dragon's hide, and the beast roared its scorn, a bellow that shook the peak.
Hero and dragon stood locked, unbowed before their strife. Blow for blow, they traded ruin—claw against steel, fire against frost. Torin glimpsed the beast sway, its scales heaving with life's fade, but his own body screamed in reply. His legs numbed, frostbit by each shuddering blade, trembling under the weight of armor and cold. The wind hissed louder, a soft plea rife through veils of snow, begging him to turn back. He ignored it, eyes locked on his foe.
Doubt gnawed deeper. "To slay and rise a legend?" The promise felt hollow now, a crowd's dream he'd die to fulfill. Then he saw it—a flicker in the dragon's stance. He roared, vaulting high, his strike a silent knell. The blade bit deep, severing scale and sinew. "Thump—thump"—the dragon's head rolled, its reign fell, crashing to the ice with a sound that echoed down the valley. Torin stood, chest heaving, victorious.
But the wind keened, "Why spurn my cries, rash fool?" The snow sighed, "I swathed him in my chill to shield." He staggered, legs failing, and collapsed into the drift. A statue draped in winter's white shroud, he felt the cold claim him. The wind tugged his sword free, claiming its blade's glow, whispering, "Now you too fade." As his eyes dimmed, the snow and wind harmonized, "In tales, you both endure," their song a soft, eternal vow carrying his name—and the dragon's—into legend.The dragon reared, unmoved by the sword's gleam, its eyes cold moons, unswayed by the ring. Torin charged, blade slashing through the air, meeting scales with a clang that rattled his bones. The beast's claws raked the ice, its breath a blast of frozen shards. "O heavens, heed me—torch the sky!" he cried, and his sword's song rose, pulling flame-rivers from the clouds. Fire wept down, searing the dragon's hide, and the beast roared its scorn, a bellow that shook the peak.
Hero and dragon stood locked, unbowed before their strife. Blow for blow, they traded ruin—claw against steel, fire against frost. Torin glimpsed the beast sway, its scales heaving with life's fade, but his own body screamed in reply. His legs numbed, frostbit by each shuddering blade, trembling under the weight of armor and cold. The wind hissed louder, a soft plea rife through veils of snow, begging him to turn back. He ignored it, eyes locked on his foe.
Doubt gnawed deeper. "To slay and rise a legend?" The promise felt hollow now, a crowd's dream he'd die to fulfill. Then he saw it—a flicker in the dragon's stance. He roared, vaulting high, his strike a silent knell. The blade bit deep, severing scale and sinew. "Thump—thump"—the dragon's head rolled, its reign fell, crashing to the ice with a sound that echoed down the valley. Torin stood, chest heaving, victorious.
But the wind keened, "Why spurn my cries, rash fool?" The snow sighed, "I swathed him in my chill to shield." He staggered, legs failing, and collapsed into the drift. A statue draped in winter's white shroud, he felt the cold claim him. The wind tugged his sword free, claiming its blade's glow, whispering, "Now you too fade." As his eyes dimmed, the snow and wind harmonized, "In tales, you both endure," their song a soft, eternal vow carrying his name—and the dragon's—into legend.