Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Aric sat quietly, allowing a memory flashed before his eyes. It was vivid and haunting, pulling him back to a different time and place.
He stood on a desolate, blood-soaked battlefield. The sky was a swirl of dark clouds, and the ground was littered with the bodies of fallen warriors. Atop a gruesome mountain of corpses, a figure stood tall and imposing—a man with long silver hair, clad in black armor, his presence comaded fear and respect. A dragon tail, covered in glinting black sleek scales, swayed behind him as he looked at the carnage below.
The man turned slightly, his piercing purple eyes meeting Aric's. His voice was cold yet commanding, filled with a bone chilling calmness that seemed more terrifying than the scene before them. "Aric," he began, his tone leaving no room for argument, "remember, I'm sending you to the past to carry out a mission, not to be a hero."
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!