A Dragon’s Tale
The waves of dawn dance through the atmosphere, harmonizing with the wind to create a symphony performance for the tall pinewood giants and the campsite that stands at the brim of the horizon.
The early fire of the morning lay ablaze on a pile of cedar, as the watchkeeper’s eyes pry into the distance; with iron arrows adorning his ankles.
The clan of warriors stay hushed under the rising sun, with heaving breaths of exhaustion lacing their iron lungs.
The thieving vultures probe the floor from the clouds; the clouds that encase the gentle burning glow of an ancient reptile.
With shields encompassing the body, a scorching breath, and a swiftness that shock-waves the fluidity of the air, the primordial being dives towards the fire that matched its untamed ferocity for ashes.
The ravaging watchkeeper’s cry breaks the morning as armour, swords, and arrows are swiped from the grass in the efforts of defense and elucidation of pride.
The last cries of tens of fallen soldiers ricochet off the vibrant bloodshot scales of the creature, as the battle between fire and air extinguish the rumbling strength of earth; rising to the moments of the battle’s climax.
It’s the golden tale of a lone warrior and its singing sword, against the merciless entity born from the labyrinth of the volcano.
It’s the molten hatred between the dark knight in shining armour and the red blazing dragon of thunder.
It’s the olden prophecy of a lone warrior and the manifestation of humanity’s greatest fear, fighting till the end of death scythe.