Rise of the Devourer
Book 4: Chapter 29 — The Beginning of the End Pt 2

The ancient dragon's corpse stretched before Vion like a mountain of bone and scale, its massive form carved into the very heart of the peak. Even in death, Axeros was magnificent—each scale the size of a shield, claws that could have torn through castle walls, and a skull so vast that entire buildings could have fit within its jaws. The centuries had not diminished the awe-inspiring presence of what had once been the greatest dragon of his age.

Vion landed softly on the rocky ledge that led to the heart chamber, her dragon form folding in on itself as she resumed her human appearance. The ceremonial robe still clung to her shoulders, its draconic scales seeming to resonate with the ancient power that permeated this place. The air itself felt thick with magic, as if the very stones remembered the life that had once flowed through this massive form.

With her wings and draconic aura, none of the monsters littering this dungeon had disturbed her—and it didn’t take too much effort for her to reach this place. The very core of this dungeon.

She approached slowly, reverence filling every step. This was not just the site of a sacred ritual—this was her father's resting place. The dragon who had loved a human woman, who had defied the ancient laws of his kind, who had died protecting the kingdom that would become her home. Every scale, every bone, every trace of the magnificent creature he had been filled her with a complex mixture of pride, sorrow, and longing.

"Father," she whispered, reaching out to touch the fossilized hide. The scale beneath her palm was cool and smooth, but she could swear she felt something deeper—a warmth that spoke of the life that had once pulsed through these ancient bones.

The Dragon's Heart lay deeper within the corpse, accessible if she walked through the dragon’s open maw. According to the ritual, she was to place her hand upon the Heart and channel her mana into it, allowing the ancient magic to judge her worthiness and grant her the blessing of true draconic power. It was said that those who succeeded would emerge as champions capable of protecting the kingdom from any threat.

Vion took a deep breath and began to gather her mana, feeling the familiar warmth as power flowed through her channels. The magical energy seemed to resonate with the ancient fossilized body around her, creating harmonics that made the very air sing. She was about to step forward into the heart chamber when a voice spoke behind her.

"Well, well. Look what we have here."

Vion spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. Standing on the ledge behind her was Neal, a soft grin on his face. There was something about him that felt… wrong. His eyes, yes, his eyes were fake. They held an intelligence and coldness that seemed far older than his apparent age, and when he smiled, it was with the kind of predatory satisfaction that sent chills down her spine.

Instinctively, Vion's mana flared around her as her instincts overcame her confusion. "Stay back," she warned, power crackling in the air around her. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but—"

"But what?" Neal interrupted, his smile widening. "You'll fight me? Use your draconic heritage to overcome the evil human?" He laughed, a sound that echoed strangely in the chamber. "Oh, my dear princess, you have no idea what you're truly facing."

Before she could react, Neal moved with inhuman speed. One moment he was several paces away, the next his hand was pressed against her chest, and Vion felt a terrible cold spreading through her body. Not physical cold—something far worse. It was as if her very essence was being drained away, pulled into something hungry and vast.

"You see," Neal said conversationally as Vion struggled against whatever force was affecting her, "this ritual has been performed many times over the centuries. But no one succeeded. You would not have either—of course, not without my assistance. You should be thanking me, really.”

Vion tried to speak, tried to summon her power, but found that her voice wouldn't work. Her mana felt sluggish and unresponsive, as if it were being siphoned away faster than she could gather it. Worse still, she could feel herself beginning to change—her solid form becoming less substantial, more ethereal.

"The Dragon's Heart isn't just a source of power," Neal continued, his grip on her chest tightening. "It's a conduit. A way to channel life force directly into the corpse itself. And you, my dear Vion, with your pure draconic heritage and exceptional magical potential, will make the perfect battery. And, technically, would have also passed the test! So, rejoice."

With a casual push, Neal shoved her backward toward the opening in the dragon's mouth. Vion tried to resist, but her body was no longer entirely solid. She felt herself melting, becoming something between flesh and energy, and the ancient bones seemed to pull at her like a magnet.

She passed through the opening and into the heart chamber, where the massive organ—clearly fossilized, but gaining flesh with faint, necromantic light right in front of her—began beating softly. The moment she made contact with it, Vion felt herself being absorbed, her consciousness pulled into the vast network of veins and arteries that had once carried the lifeblood of the greatest dragon in history.

But as her essence merged with the Heart, something else stirred. The ancient magic that had kept Axeros in death's embrace for centuries suddenly flared to life, fed by her draconic power and pure magical potential. The effect was immediate and terrifying.

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The dragon's corpse convulsed, massive bones grinding against each other with sounds like breaking mountains. Ancient eyes that had been dark for two hundred years suddenly blazed with unholy fire, and a roar that shook the very foundations of the peak erupted from the skeletal jaws.

Axeros was awake.

Not alive—something far worse than that. He was undead, a mockery of the magnificent creature he had once been, animated by necromantic power and sustained by his daughter's stolen life force. And through the connection she now shared with the Heart, Vion felt rampaging emotions, confused and angry and hungry—

From outside the chamber, she heard Neal's laughter, now carrying harmonics that no human throat could produce. "Perfect," he said, his voice carrying easily through the bone and stone. "Absolutely perfect. Welcome back to the world, Axeros. You’ll work so fabulously."

***

King Draxius stood in his private study, the silver pendant resting heavily against his chest. Within its confines, he could feel the ancient dragon's consciousness raging impotently, a satisfying reminder of how thoroughly his plans had succeeded. The celebration in the palace below was likely proceeding smoothly, nobles and guests drinking and laughing in blissful ignorance of what was truly unfolding.

At least, until the roar came.

It rolled across the kingdom like thunder, a sound so primal and terrifying that every living thing within a hundred miles felt it in their bones. The massive windows of the study rattled in their frames, and somewhere in the distance, Draxius could hear screams of confusion and terror rising from the city below.

But instead of alarm, a slow smile spread across the king's features.

"Right on time," he murmured, his voice carrying a malice to it that a mere human shouldn’t be able to. The pendant at his chest pulsed with captured light, and he could feel Zax's renewed struggles as the dragon realized what that distant roar meant. He grinned. If only Zax could realize the struggle was futile—oh, how satisfying that would be.

Draxius moved to his desk with measured steps, gathering the speaking crystal that would broadcast his voice throughout the palace and beyond. The magical device hummed to life at his touch, its faceted surface glowing with prepared enchantments.

"Attention, loyal subjects of Drakonias," his amplified voice rang out through every corridor, every room, every corner of the palace. "It is with great sorrow and… anger that I must inform you of a terrible betrayal that has occurred this very evening."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle. Throughout the palace, he knew conversations were stopping, celebrations grinding to a halt as people turned toward the nearest speaking crystals with growing concern.

"Princess Vion, our beloved champion and rightful heir, has been murdered," he continued, his voice carrying the perfect mixture of grief and rage. "She was struck down during the sacred Dragon's Heart ritual by the very people we welcomed as honored guests—the adventurers led by one Noah, who has revealed himself to be a servant of truly vile powers."

The silence that filled the palace was music to his ears. It expressed so much, after all—panic, confusion, and rapidly building anger—exactly the emotional chaos he needed.

"These traitors used forbidden magic to corrupt the sacred ritual, awakening an abomination that now threatens our very kingdom. Even now, the undead dragon they have created ravages the mountains, a testament to their evil, heading towards our city step by step. They have not only murdered our princess, but desecrated the very legacy of our kingdom.”

Draxius moved to the window as he spoke, gazing out at the kingdom spread below. In the distance, he could see the massive form of the reanimated dragon silhouetted against the evening sky, its undead roars echoing across the landscape. The sight filled him with deep satisfaction.

"Therefore, by royal decree, I brand these criminals as enemies of the realm. Noah and his companions are to be captured if not killed on sight. They are traitors to the crown and murderers of our beloved princess. Let no one offer them aid or quarter."

As if responding to his words, the sky began to darken unnaturally. What had been a clear evening suddenly filled with roiling clouds that blotted out the stars. The moon, visible through the gathering gloom, began to darken as something vast moved across its face.

An eclipse.

Draxius's smile widened as he watched the celestial event unfold. The timing was absolutely perfect, of course. It was his plan, after all—it was only natural the very heavens themselves would respond to his orchestration. The eclipse would provide the cover and chaos his ‘allies’ needed, and he would not let the symbolism be lost on the people below.

"Even the heavens weep for our loss," he announced through the speaking crystal, his voice taking on the cadence of prophecy. "Darkness falls upon the land as evil walks among us. But we shall not cower. We shall not flee. We shall hunt down these traitors and make them pay for their crimes."

Through the window, he could already see movement in the shadows cast by the eclipsed moon. Figures in dark robes moved through the streets below with purpose and coordination that spoke of careful planning. The lunar cultists were taking their positions, approaching the palace, ready to play their part in the grand deception.

Some here, some with the dragon. Ah, how useful cultists could be.

At the same time, from the opposite direction, he spotted other groups moving toward the palace—rebels and dissidents who had been waiting for exactly this kind of chaos and had jumped at the opportunity the lunar cultists had offered them. They would storm the palace seeking to "rescue" the kingdom from its flaws, the lives lost in the process be damned, never realizing what they were truly assisting.

The beauty of it was that both groups believed they were fighting for righteousness. The truth—that they were all pawns in a much larger game—would never occur to them. He loved it, when things worked out so beautifully.

"Royal guards!" Draxius called out, his voice carrying beyond the speaking crystal to the corridors beyond his study. "Secure the palace! Find the traitors! Protect the innocent citizens from these monsters!"

The responding thunder of armored feet echoed through the hallways as royal guards mobilized, their confusion and anger making them dangerous and unpredictable. Some would genuinely believe his lies and hunt Noah's group with zealous determination. Others might have doubts but would follow orders nonetheless. Either way, they would add to the chaos.

The eclipse reached totality, plunging the kingdom into an otherworldly twilight. In that strange half-light, Draxius could already see his plans unfolding with mechanical precision.

"Maybe I should have a glass of wine?" Draxius murmured to himself, the pendant at his chest pulsing with trapped dragon-light.