Draconis Genesis: The Dawn of Magic

Drakaryn moved through the dense forest, his massive wings tucked against his body to avoid the tangled canopy above. The glow of his opalescent scales reflected faintly against the dim light filtering through the foliage, casting an eerie luminescence over the surroundings. His golden eyes scanned the landscape, keen and unyielding. This was Tazerith's domain, a territory the crimson-scaled dragon had painstakingly cultivated over years of exile.

Drakaryn's lips curled into a faint smirk. The memory of Tazerith's terrified retreat from their last encounter was still fresh in his mind, a source of mild amusement. But this wasn't just about retribution. Tazerith had made his intentions clear, and Drakaryn had no intention of allowing the crimson dragon to act on them. If Tazerith thought he could strip Drakaryn of his power, it was only fair to return the sentiment.

The territory was rich with life. Trees towered overhead, their leaves forming a dense green canopy that blocked out much of the sky. The undergrowth was thick with bushes and vines, each bursting with vibrant vitality. Birds flitted from branch to branch, their songs mingling with the distant rustle of small animals moving through the brush. Even the air felt alive, humming faintly with the mana coursing through the land.

Drakaryn paused at the edge of a clearing, his claws sinking into the soft soil. He closed his eyes, focusing on the symphony of life around him. The Dragontongue whispered through his mind, the layered harmonics weaving together as he formed the concept of vitality. He pictured it clearly—the life force thrumming within every creature, every plant, every inch of this territory.

The Dragontongue rose from his throat, a low, resonant melody that rippled through the air. It wasn't a roar this time but a song, deliberate and precise. The effect was immediate. Leaves shriveled and crumbled into dust, flowers withered, and the vibrant green of the forest floor faded to dull gray. The small creatures hidden in the undergrowth let out faint cries before collapsing, their bodies dissolving into shimmering motes of red and green energy.

The vitality coalesced into orbs, each one glowing faintly as it hovered in the air. Drakaryn opened his eyes, watching as the orbs floated toward him, drawn by the anchor of his storage space. One by one, they vanished, disappearing into the void he had created. The process was efficient, almost mechanical, as the once-thriving clearing was reduced to lifeless dust.

Satisfied, Drakaryn moved deeper into the territory, repeating the process. He left no corner untouched, his Dragontongue drawing vitality from every living thing, stripping the land bare. By the time he reached the edge of the territory, Tazerith's domain was unrecognizable. The once-lush forest was now a barren wasteland, its soil cracked and dry, its trees skeletal husks. Drakaryn stood at the border, his storage space heavy with the stolen vitality, and allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction.

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Tazerith returned to his territory with a triumphant stride, his three allies trailing close behind. Their journey had been productive, or so he thought. While they hadn't yet secured the help they sought, their recruitment efforts were gaining traction. He was confident that, with a few more well-placed threats and promises, they could amass a force capable of overwhelming Drakaryn. The thought brought a sneer to his scarred face.

But as they crossed the border into his territory, the sneer faded. Something was wrong. The vibrant greenery that had marked his domain was gone, replaced by a gray, lifeless expanse. The air, once rich with the hum of mana, was heavy and still. Tazerith stopped mid-step, his golden eyes wide with disbelief.

"What… what happened here?" one of his allies murmured, his voice tinged with unease.

Tazerith said nothing, his gaze sweeping over the desolation. He took a few steps forward, his claws crunching against the dry, cracked ground. The realization hit him like a physical blow. Every ounce of vitality in his territory—every plant, every creature, every speck of life—was gone. The soil was barren, the mana drained.

"Drakaryn," Tazerith growled, his voice low and venomous. The others exchanged uneasy glances, the name spoken like a curse.

One of the dragons, a slender bronze-scaled male, shifted nervously. "He did this? How?"

Tazerith turned on him, his eyes blazing. "How doesn't matter! That smug bastard thinks he can humiliate me, strip me of everything I've built—"

"He has," Sylra, the green-scaled female, interrupted, her voice sharp. "Look around, Tazerith. There's nothing left."

The rage in Tazerith's chest boiled over, his claws raking the ground as his wings flared. "I don't care what it takes. I don't care if I have to burn the entire Expanse to the ground. I will see him destroyed."

His allies fell silent, the intensity of his words leaving no room for argument. They watched as Tazerith paced furiously, his tail lashing behind him. Finally, one of them spoke, their voice hesitant.

"What about… Medraut?"

The name hung in the air like a storm cloud. The dragons exchanged uneasy glances, none of them willing to be the first to elaborate. Tazerith stopped pacing, his expression hardening as he turned to face them.

"You want to bring him into this?" Tazerith spat. "Do you have any idea what that would mean?"

"We're running out of options," Sylra said quietly. "Drakaryn's power is beyond anything we've anticipated. If we can't face him alone—"

"We don't face him alone," Tazerith snapped, though his voice lacked conviction. He knew she was right. The devastation of his territory had made that painfully clear. Drakaryn's strength had surpassed them all, and their combined efforts might not be enough.

Tazerith clenched his jaw, his claws digging into the barren soil. The thought of involving Medraut, the one dragon even the boldest feared, made his scales crawl. But Drakaryn's arrogance demanded a response, and if Medraut was the only path to victory, then so be it.

"Fine," Tazerith growled. "We'll approach him. But know this—if Medraut agrees to help, we will owe him everything."

The others nodded solemnly, the weight of the decision settling over them. Tazerith turned his gaze to the horizon, his scarred face twisted with fury. Drakaryn might have stripped him of his domain, but he wouldn't strip him of his revenge. One way or another, Drakaryn would pay.