The northern plains were silent, blanketed in frost and snow. The shattered remnants of the Frozen Citadel lay in ruins, walls crumbled, magical wards flickering and dead. Hunters and soldiers had fled, leaving nothing but scorched ice and the echoes of destruction behind. He hovered above the valley, wings folded slightly, golden aura illuminating the desolate battlefield. His gaze swept over the ruins, not with pride, not with anger, but with something heavier.
"I'm tired," he muttered, voice low and carrying over the howling wind. "Tired of doing the same thing over and over… destroying armies, shattering fortresses, fighting endlessly without answers."
The words hung in the air, swallowed almost immediately by the storm swirling around him. Every battle, every challenge, every obstacle had only made him stronger, yes—but it had given him no clarity. No answers about the one who had summoned him, the Great White Dragon whose gaze he had felt long ago, whose power had dwarfed even his own. That question gnawed at him now more than any enemy ever could.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, golden aura flaring brighter as his energy surged, then opened them, and in a blink, unleashed a storm the likes of which Frostvale had never seen. Ice shattered, mountains groaned, and the plains trembled beneath the sheer force of his golden energy. Rivers of molten ice cracked the frozen land. Magical wards melted into sparks. The last remnants of the northern army were caught in the overwhelming eruption—none survived, none remained, nothing left but the scorched, silent frost.
When the storm finally settled, the valley was unrecognizable. Frostvale had ceased to exist as it once had; only jagged ice cliffs and deep crevasses remained. Snow swirled gently around him, settling over the ruins like a frozen tomb. He took to the sky, wings slicing through clouds, aura blazing golden against the gray northern light. He was leaving—not for conquest, not for glory—but for answers.
His journey led him across mountains, rivers, and endless frozen plains. Days blurred into nights, and nights into days. Each land he passed through was marked with remnants of past civilizations and magical forces that sought to challenge him, yet none could match him. His mind remained focused on one question: the Great White Dragon. Why summon him? Why the trials? What purpose lay beyond power?
Then, in a jagged canyon far to the east, he felt a pulse unlike any he had ever encountered. Another presence—strong, fast, intelligent, and terrifyingly precise. A being that matched him in strength. His golden eyes narrowed as the aura flared, and he landed lightly on the canyon edge.
A figure stepped out from the shadows, tall, cloaked in black and silver, eyes gleaming with intensity. "I've been waiting," the stranger said calmly. "To test you… or perhaps to see if you are worth it."
Golden energy flared around him instinctively, wings unfurling, tail coiling. "Then let's see," he said. His voice carried weight, authority, and the promise of absolute power. The ground trembled as the two charged, colliding in midair with explosions of golden and dark energy. Mountains shook, boulders were hurled like pebbles, and the canyon itself groaned as shockwaves tore through it.
The battle escalated quickly. Every strike was matched, every burst of power countered. The golden light of his aura clashed against the dark brilliance of the stranger, creating storms of fire, lightning, and ice that ripped through the canyon. Both were fast beyond mortal comprehension, both precise beyond imagination. Each time he thought he had the upper hand, the stranger anticipated, countered, and struck back with equal force.
Yet just as the fight reached its peak, the stranger abruptly stopped, stepping back. "This isn't the place… nor the time," he said, voice calm but urgent. Before he could respond, he vanished, leaving only a faint ripple in the air, as though he had never existed.
Golden eyes scanned the canyon, every corner, every shadow—but he was gone. No trace. No energy signature. Nothing. Only the wind whispered through the jagged rocks, carrying the faint remnants of power that hinted at the strength he had just faced.
He clenched his fists, golden aura flaring brighter. "Who… are you?" he muttered, voice carrying over the wind, but no answer came. Only silence. Only the canyon, scarred and trembling from their battle.
For the first time in a long while, he realized how small the world could feel, how much of it remained unknown, and how much he still needed to learn. The Great White Dragon. The stranger. Their intentions. Everything. Questions that demanded answers.
With a final glance at the scarred canyon, he spread his wings, golden aura blazing once more. The sky stretched before him, endless and open. He would leave, searching, exploring, fighting when necessary—but this time, not for kingdoms, not for glory, not for power. This time, for answers.
And as he disappeared into the horizon, the wind carried his words, barely audible over the storm:
"I will find the truth… no matter where it hides."