The conflict between Rein and the last dragon stood apart. There was magic crumbling against magic, fire faced ice, and mighty rumblings beneath their feet. Rein held nothing back, pouring all his strength into his assault against the dragon. Rage served him. It propelled him on, closing on the very edge of exhaustion. But of smaller stature and weakness than its kin, the dragon moved with a calmness and wisdom that Rein could never hope to match.
The cavern reverberated with the magnitude of their contention. The crystal in Rein's hands pulsed in concert with his very heartbeat, filling him with a surge of power that he had never before felt. He was almost breaking-there, staring close at victory.
But as he glided through the cave, gusts of wind sprang from beneath the dragon's outspread wings, drawing odd feelings out of me. A tug deep within his chest. The Spirit of Revenge that had almost drowned out all of his other thoughts was fading, with the strands binding it to him fraying, the dark power upon which he had previously relied slipping away from him.
It was an opportune moment for the dragon to attack. It swung its tail, with one precise movement, to push Rein back. Rein stumbled to the ground, disarmed. The dragon paralleled him, breathing steadily, eyes staring at him with a strange comprehension.
"You have lost," the dragon whispered, with a palpable ache in its voice that only immensely old sadness could have birthed." But all are not lost. You have a choice."