Night had swallowed Merlin whole. Silence had wrapped around the forest, and even the wind dared not weep. The moonlight struggled to pierce the depths of the woods, leaving the sky cloaked in darkness. Merlin quickened his steps, stopping at the place he had long anticipated—the heart of the dragon, ready to awaken after centuries of slumber.
He took a step back and raised his hands. His eyes gleamed with a deep blue glow, reflecting the stars. Taking a deep breath, he let the echoes of ancient times flow through his mind. It was here. His old friend, his old weapon… the dragon.
But the first spell failed. The earth did not tremble. The wind froze, carrying no omen. The energy he had expected did not come. The call had to be stronger, powerful enough to stir the dragon's very soul. Words alone were not enough—he had to go beyond magic itself.
Merlin wiped the sweat from his brow and raised his hands again. Flames flickered in his gaze. His determination had not wavered, nor had his will to succeed. He took another deep breath and whispered, his voice pleading for the first time.
Merlin (his eyes glowing, voice desperate):
"Azr'akath grym! Delath'ar thunar vi'ak! Rys'na drah'ven!"
A faint vibration hummed in the air. But still, the dragon did not wake. The spell left an empty void in his soul. The power was there, but incomplete. Merlin's heartbeat quickened. Time was slipping away.
Merlin (firmer now, his voice deep and unwavering):
"Nahr'il duor! Grymf'a kaelar! Dronithar dravak!"
A crack of thunder split the wind apart like a scream. But it was still not enough. Merlin's hands trembled slightly as he tried to channel his energy into the dark sky. Something inside him felt lost—he could not find that ancient connection.
Merlin (louder now, his voice shaking with raw power):
"Thanar'al, Uthrak! Sumnor grath! Awake, my friend! Awaken!"
For a moment, everything stopped. The magic pulsed around Merlin, but neither the sky nor the earth responded. A deep stillness settled over the land. The darkness thickened, pressing against him. His eyes, once glowing blue, now burned crimson. He felt as if everything was fading, as if time itself had halted.
Merlin (softly this time, yet with all the strength of his heart):
"Mahr'an rithak! Gredar'il borh."
And then, fire ignited the air. The light in his eyes was no longer just magic—it was something greater, something ancient. Nature trembled once more. The wind turned into a storm, and the echoes of the deep earth answered his call.
And at that moment… everything changed. A sound rumbled from beneath the ground—a voice lost to time. Giant wings, long forgotten and fragile with age, began to rise toward the sky. The dragon's eyes gleamed, piercing through the darkness. The earth cracked as the beast emerged, slowly ascending into the night.
As Merlin felt the final surge of his magic, flames erupted in the dragon's gaze. The fire in its eyes cut through the midnight void, and for the first time in centuries, Merlin felt power coursing through his veins once more. The creature—the dragon—was awake.
Merlin (whispering, exhausted but resolute):
"Rise… dragon. Rise and stand with me."
The dragon's wings stretched, covering the night sky like an eclipse. Merlin's breath was heavy, his hands weak, but his spirit unyielding. This creature, once his companion, was now his ally once more.
His eyes, after so many long years, gleamed with the light of reunion. But only one thought remained in his mind:
The war was beginning, and he would need this beast to win it.