The mountain trembled.
Not from fire.
Not from war.
But from something older.
Something deeper.
Beneath the throne room, beneath the bones of the world itself, the earth cracked open like a wound.
And from that wound, the **Old Gods** began to rise.
---
Talen stood at the edge of the broken sanctum, his breath still hot from the fire he had unleashed upon Vorathax's throne.
Smoke curled around his form, wings half-unfurled, eyes burning with defiance.
Vorathax lay before him, wounded—not dead, but weakened.
"You fool," the elder dragon growled, rising slowly, scales blackened along one side. "You think you can defy what came before us?"
Talen met his gaze without fear.
"I don't need to defy them," he said. "I just need to stop you."
Vorathax bared his teeth.
"You don't understand what you've unleashed."
A deep rumble echoed through the chamber.
Then the ground split.
From the abyss below rose figures wreathed in shadow and flame—tall, elegant, monstrous beings whose forms shifted between man, beast, and something beyond comprehension.
Their eyes gleamed like stars drowned in blood.
One stepped forward, its voice a whisper that cut through bone.
"You have awakened us."
Talen's heart pounded.
He had thought he was freeing the world.
Instead, he had opened the gates.
---
In the rebel camp, Vintrinx felt the shift before she heard the screams.
The sky darkened—not with storm clouds, but with something else. A presence that pressed against reality itself.
Seyra landed beside her, wings flaring.
"They're coming," Seyra said grimly.
Vintrinx tightened her grip on her sword.
"Who?"
Seyra's silver eyes flickered.
"The ones even the dragons feared."
A second later, the first wave struck.
Figures descended from the sky—winged horrors, faceless wraiths, creatures born of forgotten nightmares.
They did not fight like dragons.
They fought like gods.
Vintrinx leapt into the fray, blade blazing with the fire of the Marked.
Around her, rebels fell back, overwhelmed.
She knew they couldn't win this alone.
She needed help.
She needed **him**.
---
Talen found her in the ruins of Eldenhold, surrounded by fallen warriors and the bodies of things that should never have walked the earth.
He landed beside her, flames curling around his form.
"You came," she said, panting.
"I didn't have a choice," he replied.
She glanced at him.
"Since when do gods care about choices?"
He looked out over the battlefield.
"They don't," he admitted. "But I do."
They stood side by side, watching the sky darken further.
Above them, the Old Gods descended.
One of them hovered above the battlefield, robes woven from starlight and shadow.
Its voice rang out like thunder across time.
"You are not worthy to bear the fire."
Talen raised his head.
"I never asked to be."
Vintrinx stepped forward.
"We don't bow to you."
The god smiled.
"Then you will burn."
---
The battle erupted like a storm breaking over the world.
Talen fought with divine fury, unleashing First Flame against beings older than memory.
Vintrinx moved like fire incarnate, her blade cutting through illusions and flesh alike.
Together, they held the line.
Behind them, the last of the Marked rallied.
Rebels turned defenders.
Dragons divided—some joining the rebellion, others falling to the Old Gods' will.
The war was no longer between gods and mortals.
It was between those who wished to control the world…
And those who wished to **free it**.