White bones reached for the skies—bones which had been a part of a terror like no other, once.
Amos looked at the bones of the strongest dragon there was. A dragon like no other. The one beast that had devastated the Nightshade Empire when the Caesars were still strong.
His salvation.
"Rise!" Amos ordered. Blood dripping from his fingers. "Rise!"
His mana surged towards the dragon. It tried to call a forsaken soul back. Amos bit his bottom lip.
The clouds began to gather.
"Rise!" He roared again.
The stench of the dead giants threatened to overwhelm him.
He refused to give up his hatred for Wrath! He refused to let the man win!
Wrath needed to burn! Wrath needed to see everything he had turned to ruin!
"Rise!" Amos yelled once more. A crack sounded from the sky. A tree caught fire.
Amos took hold of a bleached bone.
"Rise! I command you!"
A grumble sounded in the distance.
