The leviathan was dying, and he was taking his time about it.
Its massive body, easily the length of three war galleons lashed together, thrashed through the volcanic channels that carved through Tempest Isle's lower peaks.
The creature was an ancient thing. Older than most kingdoms, it was powerful enough that lesser dragons gave it a wide berth when they encountered it in the deep waters. But age and power meant nothing against Typhoon.
The Dragon King ceased his playful interaction with the meal approximately four minutes ago. He was now consuming his meal.
His jaws were large enough to swallow entire fortresses and had locked around the leviathan's midsection.
The creature's flailing had become more desperate and frantic, and each tail thrash sent geysers of water cascading across the volcanic terrain.
Thick, crimson blood steaming in the cold air, painted the stone.
