TSOL: Shadows of the Celestial realm

Dracon

The stormy night fell silent as Shade strode forward, his presence sending a chill through the air that had nothing to do with the icy winds. Dawn, the remaining dragon, landed gracefully at Shade's raised hand, its massive wings folding behind it as it stood obediently by its master's side. The eerie glow of Shade's sword of light illuminated the desolate battlefield, casting long shadows across the torn landscape.

The squad stood still, their breath shallow as they watched the dark figure approach. Excalibur, Kronos, and Link exchanged wary glances, their eyes flicking to Dracon, who was covered in blood and standing with ragged breath after the brutal battle with Dusk. Dracon's chest heaved, still high on adrenaline, but even he couldn't suppress the creeping dread that gripped his heart as Shade loomed closer.

Shade's expression was unreadable, his long, dark cloak billowing behind him as he stopped beside Night's charred and motionless body. He looked down at her, his eyes narrowing in cold disdain. "How pathetic," he murmured, almost to himself. The words, though soft, cut through the air like a blade. "I had high hopes for her, but it seems she was as weak as the rest."

Then, his gaze shifted—slowly, deliberately—to Dracon. The weight of his stare was unbearable, like being crushed under the weight of the night itself. "And you..." Shade said, his voice low and dangerous, "you killed my dragon."

Dracon's chest tightened. His throat was dry, but he tried to find his voice, desperate to defend himself. "I—"

Before the words could leave his mouth, Shade moved. So fast, so smooth, it seemed like time itself had bent for him. His hand twitched, and in an instant, his sword of light flashed through the air. The sound of the blade slicing through flesh was almost imperceptible, but the result was immediate. Dracon's eyes widened, his mouth still half-open in mid-speech, but no sound came out.

The world slowed to a crawl.

A thin red line appeared across Dracon's throat. His body swayed for a second before his head, severed cleanly from his neck, slid off and tumbled to the ground with a sickening squelch. It bounced once on the muddy battlefield, rolling to a stop at Excalibur's feet.

The silence was deafening.

Kronos's heart seemed to stop, his mind unable to comprehend what had just happened. One moment, Dracon had been standing beside them—alive, breathing—and the next, he was gone. His body crumpled to the ground, blood pooling around it, and still, the night was eerily quiet, save for the soft hiss of steam rising from the ground where his fire breath had scorched the earth.

Shade flicked the blood from his blade with a casual motion, his expression never changing. He didn't even look at the fallen Dragonborn; it was as if Dracon's death meant nothing to him.

"You killed my dragon," Shade repeated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "So I took something of equal value."

Excalibur's hands shook, his knuckles white as he gripped his sword tighter, barely holding himself together. Kronos stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the lifeless body of Dracon, his mind racing but finding no words. Link, silent and trembling, took a cautious step back, unable to process the brutality he had just witnessed.

Shade turned his back to them, as though the act of murder was nothing more than a passing inconvenience. "You are nothing but gnats to me," he said, his voice calm yet filled with condescension. "I've wasted enough time on this farce."

He began walking toward his castle, Dawn following him like a shadow, its hulking form towering over them. Shade did not spare a second glance at the group. As he reached the threshold of the castle, he paused, looking over his shoulder, his cold eyes locking onto Kronos.