The chamber echoed with the clash of steel and the tortured groan of fractured stone. Neveah, a blur of blue and darkness, danced a deadly ballet against Axl's furious onslaught. Axl, his face contorted with rage, wove a tempest of lightning and earth, each strike aimed to cripple the agile vampire.
Suddenly, the collapsing wall gave way, and a new figure stumbled into the carnage. Azrael, his eyes wide with horror, took in the scene before him. Moira, his new fiery tempered friend and reluctant companion, lay broken and bloodied on the floor. Shards of ice glittered around her, a chilling testament to the violence that had transpired.
A primal rage, hot and fierce, surged through Azrael. Every muscle in his body screamed for vengeance. He scanned the room, his gaze landing on the other fallen dragons – all bearing similar wounds of ice and darkness. His fury solidified into a single, chilling conclusion: the vampire fighting Axl was responsible.