PART 2: The Dragon Chose the Warrior Everyone Else Lost
Rain crashed harder across the ruined battlefield.
Smoke drifted through broken shields.
Mud swallowed the dead.
And still—
the Viking warrior stood before the dragon.
Bruised.
Bleeding.
Exhausted.
Lightning flashed again.
For a moment—
the battlefield turned white.
The beast towered over him.
Massive wings shifting through storm wind.
Orange eyes burning like ancient fire.
“You will face the coming darkness.”
The words lingered heavily in the rain.
The warrior clenched his jaw.
Pain twisting into anger.
He looked around the battlefield.
At fallen brothers.
Broken weapons.
Dreams buried in mud.
“You speak of purpose?”
His voice cracked.
Raw.
Bitter.
“Everyone I fought for is dead.”
Thunder rolled overhead.
The dragon stayed silent.
Watching him.
Then slowly—
it lowered its massive head closer.
Steam curled from its nostrils.
“Not everyone.”
The warrior frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Before the dragon answered—
something moved beyond the storm.
Far across the battlefield—
through smoke and rain—
figures appeared.
Slow.
Unnatural.
At first—
they looked like survivors.
Warriors stumbling through the mist.
Armor broken.
Weapons dragging through mud.
The Viking warrior’s breath caught.
Because he recognized them.
His brothers.
Men who died only hours ago.
“No…”
His voice barely came out.
Impossible.
One warrior lifted his head.
Eyes glowing faintly blue.
Empty.
Wrong.
Then another.
And another.
Broken bodies stepped through the rain.
Silent.
Watching.
The dragon growled low.
Ancient fear rolling through the battlefield.
“The darkness begins.”
Lightning shattered the sky.
One dead warrior suddenly charged forward.
Faster than any living man.
Sword raised.
The Viking stumbled back—
shock freezing him in place.
The dragon moved instantly.
A blast of fire exploded across the battlefield.
Flames ripped through rain and smoke.
The dead warrior vanished.
Ash scattering into mud.
The others stopped.
Watching from the storm.
Waiting.
The Viking looked toward the beast.
Fear finally cutting through grief.
“What are they?”
The dragon’s eyes darkened.
“Death no longer sleeps.”
The battlefield trembled softly.
Then—
far beyond the hills—
a horn echoed through the storm.
Deep.
Ancient.
Wrong.
The dead warriors slowly turned toward the sound.
Thousands more shadows began rising across the battlefield.
One by one.
An army.
The dragon spread its wings.
Protective.
Towering above the Viking.
Then quietly—
for the first time—
it bowed its massive head toward him.
“Ride with me.”
The warrior froze.
Rain dripping from torn armor.
“What?”
The dragon’s burning eyes locked onto his.
“Because if we fail…”
Lightning split the heavens.
“…the world ends with this storm.”
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