On the other hand, in Avaloria, as the destruction finally began to subside, the true scale of the battle became clear.
All the dragons that had attacked the empire—at least a thousand of them—now lay dead.
Their corpses were scattered across the ruined landscape, massive bodies twisted and broken, blood pooling beneath them and staining the cracked ground dark red. Burned wings, severed tails, shattered horns—the sky that had once been filled with draconic shadows was empty now.
Nobody could believe what they were seeing.
Alicia von Crestvale stood atop a hill of dragon corpses, like an enraged goddess of death.
Her hair, streaked with blood and light, fluttered in the wind. Her aura still burned, thick and suffocating. Her eyes were wild, yet focused, locked on the last enemy before her.
Vrakkas.
