Dragon of the past

When the echoes of the First Flame fade, and the skies no longer burn with wings of eternity,
The Primordials beasts of boundless might shall slumber in dust and legend.
Born too great for the world they ruled, their enormity became their doom,
And thus, they fell, leaving but whispers in shattered stone.
Yet three shells defy the silence.
Three, yet one shall awaken.
One shall be carried to the Golden Sovereign,
Whose radiance veils greed as old as time.
Within its shell, ancient breath lingers
A heart that beats by spell and shadow,
Waiting for the hour of unmaking.
When it cracks, the world shall tremble.
Stone dragons shall shatter in reverent dread,
For the primal terror, long buried, shall rise anew.
And the heavens shall proclaim:
Even dragons have gods