The air was thick with the tension of the final battle. Dravenmoor, his heavy and rhythmic breathing echoing through the battlefield, advanced with menacing precision, his steps crushing the ground like thunder. His armor groaned under his movements, and his eyes locked onto Cerys with the fury of a predator stalking its prey. He seized her by the neck with unsettling ease, his fingers crushing her throat with such force that the mage nearly suffocated instantly.

  — You are a fool, Cerys, Dravenmoor growled, his voice low and laden with contempt. Why put your trust in a weak warrior like him? You could have chosen the winning side. He tightened his grip, his gaze radiating scorn as if she were nothing more than a disposable piece. He glanced at the fallen prince and let out a derisive laugh. That boy is nothing but a shadow of what you had hoped for.

  Cerys could barely breathe, her eyes filling with silent rage. She felt the heat drain from her body, the magical force she had used to sustain Aemon beginning to falter. She could feel the end approaching, but her mind was sharper than ever. The thought of failing so miserably was something she could not accept.

  As she struggled against Dravenmoor's crushing grip, a desperate movement unfolded nearby. A shining object sliced through the air, its silver reflection illuminating the battlefield. Lilith, her eyes fixed on the dragon egg, made the only decision left. There was no more time, and without thinking of the consequences, she hurled the egg toward Aemon.

  The egg rolled across the ground, its metallic sheen softly resonating against the stones, stopping just near Aemon's lifeless body. The soldiers of Volcrist were in despair, their eyes locked onto what seemed like a final chance. Lilith shouted, a single word, like a spell, a command without words, as if trying to pour all her strength into that single act.

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  — Aemon! The word was swallowed by the battle's chaos, but she knew he had to hear it. She knew that egg held a power that could not be ignored.

  Aemon, his senses still dulled by pain and exhaustion, heard the sound of the egg reaching him. His body, broken and weak, barely responded, but something inside him—a primal force—began to stir. He felt the warmth of blood again, a fire stronger than any pain, stronger than broken bones or the crushing weight upon him. The egg glowed before him, and instinct—something he barely understood—compelled him to reach out.

  When his fingers touched the egg's surface, something happened. The heat, the fire he had felt before, intensified, as if an ancient energy had been unleashed. A hum coursed through his spine, as if the very air vibrated with power. He looked at the mage who had called him, his vision still blurred by his struggle, but as he touched the egg, he knew something had changed.

  Dravenmoor, momentarily distracted from the mage, sensed the power concentrating within Aemon. He turned his fierce gaze toward the prince, doubt creeping into his expression as if he couldn't comprehend what was happening. He hesitated for an instant, Cerys still gripped in his hand, the battle between brute force and magic pulsing intensely.

  — What have you done, boy? Dravenmoor snarled. This changes nothing.

  But as his words echoed across the battlefield, something in Aemon began to shine, like a flame ready to consume everything in its path. He was no longer fallen, no longer defeated. The power of the egg seemed to envelop him, renewing his strength, elevating him beyond what he had ever believed himself capable of.

  And so, with the winds of battle shifting around him, Aemon rose once more. His eyes were different—fiercer—and his hand gripped his sword with a newfound strength. He was no longer alone. He was no longer lost. The dragon egg, now in his possession, had awakened something ancient within him, something Dravenmoor had never expected to face.

  The battlefield, once a place of despair, now pulsed with a new energy—something unpredictable, something that could very well prove fatal to everyone present.