What was left of the Chroniclers hated the Father of Fire for bringing destruction to their home and wanted to execute him for his crimes but the will of their master was absolute.
A Puppet bent down and grabbed Valtak by the scruff of his neck. Then it activated the enchantments of its Golem to open a Warp Gate near the safe area but away from anyone who could use it to launch a counterattack.
The Elder Wyrm’s shadow rose, grabbing the Golem back and piercing the others with its wings, and tail.
‘What?’ Only then did the Yggdrasill notice a black chain going from Lith’s chest into the ground and plunging into Valtak’s heart from below. ‘Who is that?’
Before the World Tree could complete the thought, five Wood Golems exploded from within. The Demon of the Darkness spread its body like a blanket, collecting the pieces of living wood before they could reassemble themselves.
The reanimated soul took enough wood to make a 35 meters (115′) tall dragon statue to use as its physical body and drained everything else to open seven elemental eyes on its snout.
The now Demon of The Fallen stomped its feet and called upon the earth and fire elements.
The shockwaves generated deep fissures that reached deep into the ground while roiling magma rose from below. The two forces met halfway, allowing the lava to gush to the surface as burning pillars.
The dead Wyrm used its bloodline ability, Primal Spark, to ignite the lava into Primordial Flames. The violent eruption of mystical fire pushed the remaining three Golems away, blinding their Soul Vision.
It also smothered another salvo of tier five Spirit Spells that the World Tree had unleashed to deal with the unknown enemy. Not even the Primordial Flames were enough to stop the onslaught, but between its Yggdrasill wood body and the Titania’s regenerative abilities, the Demon survived.
The World Tree sent its roots to get rid of Valtak but the dead Wyrm intercepted them with wooden tendrils of its own. Abomination Touch drained some of the roots and Primordial Flames turned those that the Demon couldn’t contain into ashes.
“Get up, Hatchling.” It said while healing its wounds as fast as it could. “You put us into this situation and I have no idea how to get out of it.”
One of the Golems broke through the pillars of white magma and charged at the Demon. The construct was taller, heavier, and its four limbs shapeshifted into long spears, giving it the reach advantage.
The Demon grabbed the first spear with the same ease as if it was being politely handed over and tugged at it with all of its strength. The momentum of the charging Golem and the sudden pull sent the construct flying into the Demon’s embrace.
The spears were useless at such close distance so the Puppet shapeshifted them into axes and maces. Before the transformation was complete, the Dead Wyrm roared its challenge, releasing a blast of Primordial Flames from its body.
The white fire engulfed the Golem and Primal Spark ignited the life force of both the construct and the Puppet piloting it against their will. The wooden Dragon and the Golem turned into a blazing pyre but while the Demon owned the Flames the construct was their victim.
For a brief moment, the World Tree experienced what being burned alive felt. The Golem and the Puppet both were extensions of the Yggdrasill and the raging fire burned their life forces until nothing was left.
The shock froze the World Tree for a second, giving their enemies the respite they so desperately needed. Menadion used it to conjure Chaos spells, Lith’s group to advance further, and the white cores to escape the encirclement of the Yggdrasill’s army.
“You don’t have the time to take a nap, Hatchling.” The Demon said while offering its scaly hand to Valtak. “Come on. I’m much older than you yet you don’t hear me complain about my age.”
The Father of Fire’s vision was still blurred from exhaustion and the searing heat from the Primordial Flames made it even worse. His eyes teared up in the attempt to retain enough moisture to not turn blind.
Valtak could barely see and all he could hear was the rumbling of the quaking ground as more and more white magma enveloped him and the dead Wyrm in a protective cocoon.
“Father?” Yet there was no way Valtak wouldn’t recognize the presence he felt through the chain emerging from his chest, the familiar timbre of that voice, and the indomitable will imbued in the Flames.
“Who else were you expecting to come and clean your mess, Hatchling?” The Demon scoffed.
Radoghorn the Fire Dragon, father of Valtak, had never been a candidate for the title of Father of Fire. His friends said it was because he wasn’t wise enough, his enemies claimed it was because he wasn’t wise at all.
Yet Radoghorn had been the best warrior of his generation and had retained the title of Champion of Fire until the day of his death. Unlike his peers who spent most of their time in the safety of their lairs, Radoghorn had honed his Flames on the battlefield.
He had challenged other Fire Dragons, members of the Brood, Phoenixes, and anyone capable of using Origin Flames as well as if not better than him. His goal had been to grasp new insights during the fights and learn from his opponents how to defeat them.
When that failed, he resorted to his sheer physical might to pummel them into submission.
Radoghorn was tall for a Wyrm and so big that some claimed the Father of All Dragons himself had sired him. Tharma had met her future husband through one of such bouts. Or rather, many of them.
As a Father of Fire candidate, there was much that Radoghorn could learn from Tharma so he challenged and beat her on a regular basis. She was no warrior but she enjoyed their matches.
There were secrets of the primordial fire that could be uncovered only in the heat of battle and Radoghorn was never cruel. He used only enough strength to subdue her and stopped attacking the moment she yielded.
After a while, they had started to comment on their fights over dinner, trading knowledge after they were done trading blows. It was only a matter of time until their tussles extended after the meal and in a romantic fashion, leading to the birth of many Dragons.
“What are you doing here, Father?” Valtak clasped wrists with Radoghorn in confusion.
Tharma had died peacefully in her sleep and Radoghorn had followed her a few decades later. His title of Champion of Fire had been challenged and despite his old age, he had always prevailed.
Radoghorn had burned what was left of his life force, defeating his opponent and ending his existence in a glorious blast of fire after being proclaimed the victor rather than spending his final years as a shadow of himself.
Even in death Radoghorn stood victorious. After his demise, the challenger had been crowned as the new Champion of Fire but there was no honor in that. The title had been passed down, not conquered.
