Dragonworld: The Drive For Power

The Prologue: The Wall

The Wall of Akshara stood facing the Mountains of Wind, cutting sharply along the edge of a desolate plain. It loomed over the landscape like a slumbering giant from a forgotten age, visible for miles in every direction, its crumbling stones stubbornly resisting the erosion of time.

Legend held the Wall had been erected in the long-lost age when gods still walked the earth, an epoch when magic flowed through the very fabric of the universe. In those ancient times, towering structures rose from the ground, powerful sorcery shaping their colossal forms. 

That was before the monsters came, and everything changed. 

The Wall stood as a relic of that vanished era, a direct connection to the very creators of the world, a silent monument to their lasting power and mystery. 

Travelers who dared venture this far found themselves drawn to it, captivated by the eerie, almost otherworldly force it seemed to exude.

Kamber Spilew had seen many wonders in his years, but nothing like this. Standing close to it, a chill ran down his spine. As his eyes traced the weathered stone stretching far into the horizon, his breathing almost stopped. Mesmerized, his sight seemed glued to the structure.

"I can feel the mystical power," Kamber Spilew mumbled to himself. It was as if invisible waves of energy were penetrating through his entire body.

Gazing upon the enormous barrier, his thoughts drifted, caught in the lanes of memory. He was a boy again, sitting at his grandfather's knee, the crackle of the fire a comforting sound as the old man's voice filled the small room.

"When the monsters came, the old world was destroyed. Everything turned to flames. When the fires stopped burning, a new world started emerging out of the ashes. Yet, the old powers were lost, forgotten and buried. The world was never the same," his grandfather used to tell.

In his grandfather's stories, the Wall had always played a central role. One tale in particular, he kept repeating. That, of a lone dragon that had fought off a legion of monsters threatening the Wall.  

Kamber always wondered. Was it only a child's story? Or had it truly come to pass?

In these times, no one could say for certain. Dragons had long ceased to ply the skies, their memory fading, turning into legend, then myth. Many even doubted the very existence of these creatures.

Kamber Spilew was one of those who wanted to believe. There must be at least a bit of truth hidden in the stories. The decayed, primordial ruins he had seen in his travels were proof enough for him. 

The man paused, holding his breath as he gazed at the ancient structure before him. While parts had succumbed to the passage of time, much of it was remarkably well-preserved for its age. Could remnants of forgotten magic still be binding it together?

In his thoughts, Kamber recollected some of the details coming from his grandfather's stories. The sights. The battles. The heroes.

"Heroes rose and fell, only to be replaced by new heroes. They flickered, then faded. Only for others to take their place," the old man would say, his voice deep, his eyes looking into the distance.

Heroes are always central to any story. Yet for Kamber, they all seemed a blur. It was rather the places, the immutable and unyielding forms, that stood out. 

Where were those "dragon landings" his grandfather always spoke of? He strained to spot them, but the view revealed nothing.

They must lie beyond the Wall, he mused. In the stories, the flying beasts rested there between battles, their massive claws leaving deep marks in the stone that remain to this day.