The wind howled as the sea roared against the jagged cliffs below, its waves crashing violently against the dark stones. High above, perched on a mountain ridge like a black sentinel, stood the Dragon’s Fortress. Its towering spires reached into the stormy sky, and the walls, slick with rain, appeared almost as if they had been carved from the shadows themselves. Legends spoke of the fortress as an impenetrable stronghold, guarded by an ancient and powerful dragon that no one had ever survived an encounter with.
Kira stood at the edge of the cliff, her heart pounding in her chest. The rain soaked through her cloak, but she didn’t care. She had come too far to turn back now. Her village had been devastated by the dragon’s fiery wrath, and she was the only one who had the courage—or the madness—to confront the beast. Clutching the hilt of her sword, she looked up at the looming fortress, knowing that her chances of survival were slim.