Five months passes.
The seals held barely. The generals were dead. The world, for the first time in years, breathed in unity with all the races united with one goal, Preparation.
Owen spent the first month in Drak'thar, recovering. His scales grew back where he'd torn them out for Uru. The three fragments of Dominus's power had settled into his core, no longer feeling foreign. He was whole. Complete. A Dragon King in truth, not just inheritance.
The second month, he started training.
The Tower of Royals had been offline since Dominus's death, its systems dormant, its trials waiting. When Owen approached it, the doors opened. The tower recognized its king. The trials or rather, training, began again.
He climbed alone.
Each floor tested something different. Speed. Strength. Endurance. Will.
