I dragged myself to my feet, my gaze falling upon the shattered masonry littering the floor of the ruined manse. I picked up a smooth, heavy chunk of river stone. Pulling a carving dagger from my belt, I began to painstakingly etch jagged, ancient runes directly into the rock's surface.
I worked with frantic, bloody fingers, repeating the process on half a dozen stones. I summoned a leather satchel, stuffing the heavy, runic stones inside. My magic was entirely spent but the final inklings of a trap were beginning to take shape.
Taking a steadying breath, I stepped out from the shadows of the ruin and back into the blistering heat of the plaza, emerging to find Caraxes still brutally incinerating the relentless swarm of shadow-demons.
While the Blood Wyrm turned the centre of the plaza into a roaring furnace, I moved like a ghost through the smoke-choked periphery. My lungs burned with every breath, but I did not stop. I drove my boots into the blood-soaked mud, burying the runic river stones deep into the earth at precise, calculated intervals. Whenever a stray shadow-possessed stumbled blindly out of the inferno toward me, I did not waste my depleted magic; I simply drove my gladius up through their jaws, letting their dark ichor spill over my hands before moving to the next point in the array.
Caraxes was nearing the end of his fiery tirade. The beast snapped his jaws shut, the flames dying to a thick, suffocating smoke, and through the haze, his molten yellow eyes finally locked back onto me.
He charged.
I did not stand my ground. Instead, I threw myself into the labyrinth of shattered structures, using the broken architecture of Qohor to evade his colossal bulk. The tactic deeply frustrated the wounded beast. Caraxes roared, his serpentine neck whipping violently through the ruins, his massive jaws crushing stone pillars to dust. His heavy, spiked tail lashed out blindly, bringing entire manses crashing down around my ears as I desperately scrambled from cover to cover.
Then, the ambient temperature in the plaza plummeted. A freezing, unnatural dread washed over the cobblestones.
I slid behind a crumbled wall, my eyes widening at the centre of the square. The true, sinister nature of the shadow-binder's magic was revealing itself.
The dismembered, charred corpses of the possessed that Caraxes had slaughtered were not dead. Thick, pitch-black tendrils of shadow began to seep from their severed stumps, aggressively pulling the ruined flesh together. Severed limbs, headless torsos, and crushed skulls rapidly amalgamated, fusing with a sickening, wet crunch into a massive, bulbous abomination.
It was a nightmare of dead flesh and writhing abyss, standing nearly half the size of the dragon. Its surface wept dark ichor as thick, whip-like tendrils of pure shadow erupted from its bulbous mass.
Caraxes immediately abandoned his hunt for me. The dragon shrieked, recognizing the primordial threat, and unleashed a blinding torrent of fire.
The shadow demon did not flinch. It lashed out, its dark tendrils wrapping around the dragon's neck and tearing at his crimson scales, seeking to drown the beast's internal fire with freezing, necrotic rot. Caraxes roared in agony as the shadows bit deep, but he doubled down on his flames, bathing the abomination in a continuous, concentrated stream of draconic fire.
As the demon burned, it desperately extended tendrils across the plaza, siphoning the remaining scattered corpses to regenerate its boiling mass. It was a gruesome, apocalyptic war of attrition.
Ultimately, dragonfire proved the absolute cleanser.
The flames overpowered the dark magic, burning the bulbous mass until the siphoning tendrils withered into nothingness, reducing the entire abomination to a towering pile of glowing, lifeless ash.
But the victory came at a catastrophic cost. Caraxes was ruined.
The dragon's breathing was a wet, ragged wheeze. The dark magic had exacerbated his lacerations, and near-boiling blood poured freely from his chest and neck, pooling heavily on the cobblestones. Utterly exhausted and unable to take flight, the Blood Wyrm dug his massive front claws into the mud, pitifully dragging his bleeding hindquarters forward as he tried to pull himself toward the city centre.
My trap was set. The beast was inside the perimeter.
I emerged from the shadows of the destroyed building, my ashwood wand raised high. The magical tether connecting this city to the Imperial Palace was palpable in the air—a heavy, static pressure that tasted of ozone. I reached into that immense well of power, bypassing my own exhausted core, and began the chant.
"In nomine patris mei Aeternus, arcanum primordiale evoco ad draconem Caraxem ligans."
In the name of my father Aeternus, I summon the primordial arcanum to bind the dragon Caraxes.
Instantly, the buried stones ignited. A brilliant, piercing emerald light erupted from the mud, connecting in a massive, flawless circular formation entirely surrounding the crippled beast.
Caraxes paused, his colossal head turning to gaze upon the glowing boundary. He let out a low, exhausted whine.
The emerald light flared blindingly bright. I slashed my wand downward.
Massive, physical constructs of glowing green magic erupted from the earth. The first emerald chain whipped upward, wrapping viciously around Caraxes' snout and snapping his jaws shut. The dragon began to thrash, a sudden surge of panicked adrenaline flooding his system, but it was useless. Dozens of thick, glowing chains rocketed from the circular array, binding his massive wings, wrapping around his throat, and pinning his legs.
With a deafening crash, the hard-light constructs tackled the colossal beast, forcing Caraxes to lay completely flat against the ruined cobblestones, entirely immobilized by the magic.
I let my wand arm drop, my chest heaving as the adrenaline finally began to recede, leaving me hollow and shaking.
"Thankfully, Father was here," I rasped to the empty air, staring at the subdued beast. "Or that would have taken infinitely longer, and been far more taxing."
My gladius still gripped tightly in my right hand, I began the long, slow walk toward Caraxes' pinned head. The beast's molten yellow eyes followed me, burning with helpless, exhausted fury. I needed to secure the creature or put it out of its misery before the magic failed.
I was barely ten paces from his snout when a desperate, booming voice echoed from my right.
"BROTHER! STOP!"
I froze, turning my head toward the smoke-filled thoroughfare leading from the city centre.
Running desperately toward me, her ringmail tattered and her face smeared with blood and ash, was my sister. Running closely at her side was a man with silver-gold hair and bruised, aristocratic features, his purple eyes widened as he took in the sight of the bound dragon.
My grip on the gladius loosened. The sword loosened from my bloody fingers, almost falling onto the cobblestone. The crushing weight of the siege, the slaughter, and the sheer terror of the night finally fractured, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming wave of relief.
A genuine, exhausted smile broke across my soot-stained face.
"Lily," I mouthed.