"The Blood Moon Prophecy"

By Steven A Leach Jr

In a world plagued by dark magic and terrifying creatures, an evil necromancer named Malakai Shadowborn forms a sinister pact with Fenris Bloodfang, a powerful werewolf lord. Together, they embark on a quest to resurrect Dracul the Deathbringer, an ancient undead dragon, from its eternal slumber. With the dragon under their control, they aim to raise an army of undead wyverns and drakes to conquer the kingdom, leaving destruction in their wake.

As the undead dragon takes to the skies, spreading fear and death, hordes of zombie warriors and werewolves attack villages and forests, terrorizing the inhabitants. Malakai's dark magic also awakens the long-forgotten elven necropolis, turning its once-noble guardians into twisted, undead abominations, pushing the elven realms to the brink of annihilation.

Amidst the chaos, an ancient prophecy foretells of a blood-red moon that will mark the end of all life if left unchallenged. A group of unlikely heroes, including Alaric Dawnbringer, Lyriel Silvermoon, Thorin Ironheart, Pippin Quickfoot, and Aurora Mistweaver, unite to confront the growing darkness. They must navigate treacherous landscapes, overcome supernatural obstacles, and battle legions of undead to recover the lost scrolls of the prophet Eldrin, which hold the key to stopping the apocalypse.

To succeed in their mission, the heroes must forge alliances with various factions, including the mountain-dwelling dwarves led by King Balin Stoneforge, the human kingdom ruled by Queen Elara Dawnrise, and even the fierce orc tribes under Chieftain Grok Skullcrusher. Together, they work to develop new magic and weapons capable of turning the tide against Malakai, Fenris, and the undead dragon.

As the blood moon looms overhead, the fate of the world hangs in the balance. The heroes must race against time to decipher the ancient ritual that will banish Dracul back to its grave and unite the disparate forces of the kingdom. With the help of unexpected allies and the mysterious vampire lord Vladimir Crimsonthirst, whose true motives remain unclear, they embark on a final, epic battle to save their world from eternal darkness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven A Leach Jr
• Release date: May 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224573196

Book preview

The Blood Moon Prophecy

Table of contents

Chapter1: The Awakening

Chapter2: The Gathering

Chapter3: TheBattle of Dawnhold

Chapter4: TheProphet's Lost Scrolls

Chapter5: TheBlood Moon Rises

Chapter6: TheRiseof the Necropolis

Chapter7: TheElven Exodus

Chapter8: TheOrc Incursion

Chapter9: The Betrayal

Chapter10: TheNecromancer's Gambit

Chapter11: TheDragon's Hoard

Chapter12: TheCurseof theDragon's Hoard

Chapter13: TheRiseof theShadow Queen

Chapter14: TheSiren's Call

Chapter15: TheBetrayal of the Blade

Chapter16: TheNecromancer's Legacy

Chapter17: TheHeir of Shadows

Chapter18: TheCelestial Convergence

Chapter19: TheFracturing of Reality

Chapter20: TheFinal Sacri ce

Chapter21: TheEchoes of Eternity

Chapter22: TheUnending Cycle

Chapter23: TheRebirth of Hope

Chapter24: TheLegacy Endures

Chapter25: TheFinal Stand

Chapter26: TheRiseof the Phoenix

Chapter27: TheEternal Flame

Chapter28: TheStirring of Shadows

Chapter29: TheWhispers of Fate

Chapter30: TheThreads of Destiny

Chapter31: TheCrucible of Fate

Chapter32: TheEchoes of In nity

Chapter33: TheTapestry of Time

Chapter34: TheIn nite Threads

Chapter35: TheDream Weavers

Chapter36: TheTapestry Unraveled

Chapter37: TheThreads of Fate

Chapter38: TheWeaver's Legacy

Chapter39: The Unraveling

Chapter40: TheFinal Weaving

Chapter41: TheEternal Weave

Chapter42: TheWeaver's Legacy

Chapter43: TheWeavingof Worlds

Chapter44: TheUnraveling of Time

Chapter45: TheFinal Weaving

Chapter 1: The Awakening

In theheart of theWhispering Woods, an ancient evil stirred. Theair grew heavy with thestench of decay, and theonce-vibrant forest now stood silent, as if holding its breath in anticipation of thehorrors to come. Deep within a long-forgotten crypt, Malakai Shadowborn, the notorious necromancer, stood beforea massivesarcophagus, his eyes gleaming with malevolent intent.

Besidehim, Fenris Bloodfang, thefearsomewerewolf lord, paced impatiently, his claws clicking against thestone oor. Are you certain this will work, necromancer? Fenris growled, his voice echoing through the dank chambers.

Malakai turned to his ally, a sinister smile playing across his gaunt features. Havefaith, myfriend. Theancient texts are clear. Withthepowerof the blood moonand thesacri ces we'vegathered, Dracul the Deathbringer shall rise once more.

Thenecromancer's gazedrifted to thedozens of cages lining thewalls of thecrypt, each containing a terri ed villager or captured soldier. Their

muf ed sobs and pleas for mercy lled theair, a twisted chorus that only served to fuel Malakai's dark desires.

As theblood moonreached its zenith, Malakai began to chant in an ancient, guttural language. Tendrils of black energy swirled around him, pulsing in rhythm with his words. Thecaptives' screams intensi ed as thedark magic seeped into their bodies, draining their life force and funneling it towards the sarcophagus.

Witha nal, triumphant shout, Malakai completed theritual. Thestone lid of thesarcophagus shattered, revealing theskeletal remains of Dracul, the once-mighty dragon. As thedarkenergy surged into thebones, they began to knit together, forming a grotesque, undead monstrosity.

Fenris watched in aweas Dracul rosefrom its grave, its emptyeye sockets blazing with unholy red light. Theundead dragon stretched its wings, sending a showerof dust and debris cascading downuponthe necromancer and werewolf lord.

Behold, theinstrument of our conquest, Malakai declared, his voice trembling with barely contained excitement. With Dracul at our command, weshall raise an armyof theundead and bring this kingdom to its knees.

Fenris grinned, his fangs gleaming in themoonlight. And mypack shall feast uponthe esh of theliving, growing stronger with each passing day.

As thetwovillains reveled in their triumph, thecaptives' screams faded into a deathly silence. Thedarkmagicthat had claimed their lives now animated their corpses, transforming them into mindless, undead thralls. Witha waveof Malakai's hand, thenewlycreated minions shambled forward, ready to dotheir master's bidding.

Miles away, in theheart of theelven realms, Lyriel Silvermoon awokewith a start, her heart pounding in her chest. Theyoungelf had been plagued by nightmares of late, visions of a terrible darkness spreading across the land. As shestepped out onto her balcony, shegasped at thesight of the blood moonhanging low in thesky, its crimson light bathing theforest in an eerie glow.

Theprophecy, shewhispered, her voice trembling. It's comingto pass.

Lyriel knew shehad to act fast. Shegrabbed her bowand quiver, then raced through thehalls of her family's manor, determined to warnher people of theimpending danger. As shereached thecourtyard, shefound her father,

Lord Arathel Silvermoon, deep in conversation with a group of elven scouts.

Father! Lyriel called out, her voice urgent. Wemust preparefor battle. Theblood moonheralds therise of a great evil.

Lord Arathel turned to his daughter, his brow furrowed with concern. Lyriel, what haveyou seen?

Theyoungelf quickly relayed her visions, describing theundead dragon and thelegions of darkness that threatened their realm. Lord Arathel listened intently, his expression growing graver with each passing moment.

Wemust summontheCouncil of Elders, hedeclared, turning to his scouts. Send wordto every corner of our realm. Wemust stand united against this threat.

As thescouts dispersed, Lord Arathel placed a comforting hand on his daughter's shoulder. Fear not, Lyriel. Wehavefaced great evils before, and weshall doso again. Thelight of our peoplewill not beextinguished so easily.

Lyriel nodded, drawing strength from her father's words. Sheknew that the battle ahead wouldbeunlike anythey had faced before, but shewas ready to ght for her peopleand her homeland.

Far to thenorth, in thesnow-capped mountains of Ironhold, Thorin Ironheart, thestalwart dwarven warrior, sat hunched over a ickering forge, his hammerringing out a steady rhythm as heworked. The ancient runes etched into thebladehecrafted glowed with a soft, blue light, imbuing theweaponwith powerful enchantments.

As hepaused to wipethesweat from his brow, a sudden commotion outside theforge caught his attention. Thorin set downhis tools and strode to theentrance, his hand resting instinctively onthehilt of his axe.

Agroup of dwarven scouts rushed into theforge, their faces grim. Thorin, you must comequickly, oneof them said, his breath comingin short gasps. King Balin has called for an emergencycouncil. Agreat evil stirs in the south.

Thorin's eyes narrowed. Hehad heard thewhispers, thetales of a necromancerand a werewolf lord gathering darkforces in theshadows. If therumors weretrue, then all theraces of thekingdom werein grave danger.

Without hesitation, Thorin followed thescouts to thegreat hall of Ironhold, whereKing Balin Stoneforgesat uponhis throne, his brow furrowed with worry. Thehall was lled with dwarven warriors and craftsmen, all murmuringanxiously amongst themselves.

Thorin, myfriend, King Balin said, his voice grave. I fear weface a threat unlike anywehaveknownbefore. Theblood moonhangs in thesky, and whispers of an undead dragon rising from thedepths havereached our ears.

Thorin stepped forward, his voice steady and resolute. Myking, the dwarves of Ironhold stand ready to defend our kingdom. Wewill not allow this evil to spread unchecked.

King Balin nodded, his eyes glinting with determination. I havesent word to our allies in thehumanand elven realms. Wemust stand united if we are to haveanyhopeof defeating this menace.

As thedwarves began to plan their defenses and ready their weapons, Thorin couldn't shakethefeeling that this was only thebeginning of a long and terrible struggle. Heknew that theroad ahead wouldbefraught with danger, but hewas prepared to face whateverchallenges lay before him.

In thesprawling humancapital of Dawnhold, QueenElara Dawnrise paced thelength of her throneroom, her brow creased with worry. Reports of strange, undead creatures attacking villages ontheoutskirts of her kingdom had been pouring in for days, each moredisturbing than the last.

Besideher, Alaric Dawnbringer, her most trusted general and con dant, studied a mapof therealm, marking thelocations of themost recent attacks. Your Majesty, wemust act quickly, hesaid, his voice lled with urgency. Thesecreatures grow bolder with each passing day, and our peoplelive in fear.

QueenElara nodded, her eyes lled with determination. Summon the champions, Alaric. Wewill need thestrength of all our heroes if weare to face this threat.

As Alaric bowedand strodefrom thethroneroom, QueenElara turned to thewindow, her gazedrifting to theblood moonthat hungominously in the sky. Shehad heard theprophecies, thewhispers of a great evil rising from thedepths of theearth. Now, it seemed, thoseprophecies werecoming to pass.

Suddenly, a shimmering portal opened in thecenter of thethrone room, and a gurestepped through. QueenElara recognized thelithe form of

Aurora Mistweaver, thepowerful faerie enchantress whohad long been an ally of her kingdom.

Queen Elara, Aurora said, her voice lled with urgency. Thefae realms havebeen attacked byundead creatures, led bya corrupted elf who once served as a guardian of our sacred groves. I fear this is but a preludeto a greater darkness that threatens us all.

QueenElara's eyes widened. A corrupted elf? Howis this possible?

Aurora shookher head, her expression grim. Thenecromancer's power grows stronger each day. Hehas awakened an ancient evil that should have remained buried. Wemust stand together, or all will be lost.

As thetwoleaders began to plan their next move, a commotion erupted outside thethroneroom. Guards rushed in, their faces pale with fear.

Your Majesty! oneof them cried. Thecity is underattack! Undead creatures are pouring through thegates, led bya massive, skeletal dragon!

QueenElara and Aurora exchanged a lookof horror. Thebattle for their kingdom, and for thefate of theentire realm, had begun.

In thedepths of theWhispering Woods, Pippin Quickfoot, the nimble hal ing rogue, crept silently through theundergrowth, his keen eyes

scanning theshadows for anysign of danger. Hehad been tracking a group of undead raiders for days, watching as they pillaged and burned their way through the countryside.

As hepaused to listen, a twig snapped behind him. Pippin whirled around, his daggers drawn, only to ndhimself face-to-face with a massive, black- furred werewolf.

Peace, little one, thewerewolf growled, its voice raspy and guttural. I am not your enemy.

Pippin hesitated, his grip onhis daggers tightening. Whoare you? he demanded, his voice steady despite thefear that gripped his heart.

Thewerewolf inclined its head, its yellow eyes glinting in themoonlight. I amGrokSkullcrusher, chieftain of theBloodfang tribe. I havecometo warn you of thegreat evil that threatens our lands.

Pippin's eyes narrowed. Hehad heard tales of theBloodfang tribe, of their ferocity in battle and their uneasy truce with theother races of the kingdom. If Grokwas here, then thesituation was truly dire.

What doyou know of this evil? Pippin asked, slowly lowering his daggers.

Grok's ears attened against his skull. Thenecromancerand the werewolf lord haveawakened an ancient horror, an undead dragon that seeks to destroy all life. Even now, their armies march upontheliving, leaving only death in their wake.

Pippin's heart raced. Hehad seen thedestruction wrought bythe undead raiders, but thethought of an undead dragon was almost too terrible to contemplate.

What can wedo? heasked, his voice barely abovea whisper.

Grok's eyes glinted with a erce determination. Wemust stand together, little one. TheBloodfang tribe will ght besidetheliving, for if the necromancerand his allies succeed, there will benothing left for anyof us.

Pippin nodded, a newfoundresolve lling his heart. Heknew that the road ahead wouldbeperilous, but with allies like Grokat his side, perhaps there was still hope.

As theblood moonreached its zenith, theheroes of therealm began to gather, each drawnbythewhispers of prophecy and theknowledge that their world hungin thebalance. From theelven realms to the dwarven strongholds, from thehumancities to thefae groves, they came, ready to stand against thedarkness that threatened to engulf them all.

Malakai Shadowbornand Fenris Bloodfang watched from the shadows, their undead legions growing stronger with each passing hour. They knew that theliving wouldnot surrender easily, but they wereprepared to unleash thefull might of their darkpowers uponthe world.

Andso, as thebattle lines weredrawnand thefate of thekingdom hung in thebalance, thestage was set for an epic struggle between theforces of life and death, of hopeand despair. TheBlood MoonProphecy had begun, and only timewouldtell whethertheheroes of therealm wouldbe strong enough to savetheir world from thedarkness that sought to consume it.

Chapter 2: The Gathering

In theheart of theelven realm, theCouncil of Elders convened beneath the ancient boughs of theGreat Oak, their faces etched with worry and determination. Lyriel Silvermoon stood amongthem, her bowat her side, as sherecounted thevisions that had plagued her dreams.

Theblood moonis a sign of theprophecy unfolding, Eldrin the Ancient, thewisesageof theelves, said, his voice heavy with theweight of his years.

Theundead dragon, Dracul, has risen, and with it, the necromancer's power grows.

Murmurs of fear and uncertainty rippled through thegathered elves, but Lord Arathel Silvermoon raised his hand, calling for silence. Wemust not let despair take hold, hesaid, his voice steady and resolute. Our people havefaced great threats before, and wehavealways emerged victorious. Wewill doso again.

As thecouncil debated their next move, a messengerarrived, bearing news from theborder. Mylords and ladies, themessengersaid, his voice trembling with exhaustion and fear. Theundead havebreached our defenses. Theymarch uponour lands, led bya corrupted elf who once served as a guardian of our sacred groves.

Lyriel's eyes widened in horror. Mithrandil theFallen, she whispered, rememberingthetales of theonce-nobleelf whohad succumbed to darkness long ago. Hecommands theundead legions of the necropolis.

Eldrin noddedgrimly. Thenecromancer's powerhas grownbeyond our worst fears. Wemust send wordto our allies at once. Thehumans, the dwarves, and even thefae must stand with us if weare to haveanyhope of victory.

Lord Arathel turned to Lyriel, his eyes lled with a mix of pride and concern. Daughter, you havealways been theswiftest and most skilled of our archers. I task you with carrying our messageto theother races. You must convincethem to join us in this ght, for thefate of all hangs in the balance.

Lyriel bowedher head, accepting theweight of her father's words. I will not fail you, father, nor our people. I will seethis mission through, no matter the cost.

As thecouncil dispersed, Lyriel gathered her gear and set out on her journey, her heart heavy with theknowledgeof thedangers that lay ahead. Sherodeswiftly through theforests, her loyal steed carrying her towards thehumancapital of Dawnhold.

Uponarriving at thecity gates, Lyriel was greeted bya sceneof chaos and panic. Refugees streamed into thecity, their faces haunted bythe horrors they had witnessed. Soldiers rushed to and fro, barking orders and preparing for battle.

Lyriel madeher wayto thepalace, whereshewas ushered into the throne room. QueenElara Dawnriseand her champion, Alaric Dawnbringer, stood beforea gathering of nobles and advisors, their faces grim.

Queen Elara, Lyriel said, bowingdeeply. I comebearing gravenews from theelven realms. Theundead havebreached our borders, and the necromancer's powergrows stronger each day. Wemust stand together if weare to haveanyhopeof defeating this evil.

QueenElara exchanged a glance with Alaric, then turned backto Lyriel. Your warning is not the rst wehavereceived, shesaid, her voice heavy with worry. Theundead haveattacked our villages and towns, leaving devastation in their wake. Even now, an undead dragon threatens our city.

Lyriel's heart sankat thenews. Theprophecy is comingto pass, she said, her voice barely abovea whisper. Wemust act quickly, or all will be lost.

Alaric stepped forward, his hand resting onthehilt of his sword. The humanarmies stand ready to ght, hesaid, his voice lled with determination. But wecannot face this threat alone. Wemust send word to thedwarves and thefae, and even to theorc tribes, if weare to have any chanceof victory.

QueenElara nodded, her eyes lled with resolve. Alaric, you will lead our armies against theundead. Lyriel, I task you with carrying our message to thedwarves and thefae. Wemust forge an alliance that will stand against the darkness.

Lyriel and Alaric bowed, accepting their queen's command. As they left the throneroom, Alaric turned to Lyriel, his expression somber.

Theroad ahead will beperilous, hesaid, his voice low. But I havefaith in your skills, Lyriel. Youare a true champion of your people, and I am honored to ght beside you.

Lyriel felt a icker of warmthin her heart at Alaric's words. And I beside you, Alaric. Together, wewill face this darkness and emerge victorious.

As Lyriel set out oncemore, this timeboundfor thedwarven stronghold of Ironhold, Alaric gathered his troops and prepared for battle. The undead dragon circled overhead, its roars echoing through thecity streets, as the defenders of Dawnholdsteeled themselves for the ght of their lives.

Deepwithin themountain halls of Ironhold, King Balin Stoneforgeand his advisors pored over ancient tomes and maps, seeking anyclue that might aid them in their ght against theundead. Thorin Ironheart stood at the king's side, his brow furrowed with concentration.

Suddenly, a commotionerupted outside thechamber. Dwarven guards rushed in, escorting a hooded gure. As the gurelowered their hood, Thorin's eyes widened in recognition.

Lyriel Silvermoon, hesaid, his voice lled with surprise. What brings you to Ironhold in thesedark times?

Lyriel stepped forward, her expression grave. I comebearing a message from QueenElara of Dawnhold, shesaid, her voice ringing clear in the stonechamber. Theundead haveattacked thehumanand elven realms, and an ancient evil has been unleashed upontheworld. Wemust stand together if weare to haveanyhopeof defeating it.

King Balin's eyes narrowed. Theblood moonprophecy, hesaid, his voice heavy with understanding. Wehaveseen thesigns, but wedid not know thefull extent of the danger.

Thorin turned to his king, his voice lled with determination. Myking, we must answerthis call. Thedwarves of Ironhold cannot stand idle while our allies face such a threat.

King Balin nodded, his expression resolute. You are right, Thorin. We will send our best warriors to aid in this ght. Themight of Ironhold shall be felt byour enemies.

As thedwarves began to preparefor war, Lyriel turned to Thorin, her eyes lled with gratitude. Thankyou, Thorin, shesaid, her voice soft. Your support means morethan you know.

Thorin clasped her arm, his grip strong and reassuring. Weare allies, Lyriel. Wewill face this darkness together, and wewill triumph.

Withthedwarves pledged to thecause, Lyriel set out oncemore, this time boundfor themystical fae realms. Sheknew that thesupport of the powerful faerie enchantresses wouldbecrucial in thebattles to come.

As sherodethrough theshimmering portal that led to thefae lands, Lyriel found herself in a world of breathtaking beauty and ancient magic. The air hummedwith power, and thevery trees seemedto whisper secrets to those whoknew howto listen.

In a glade of shimmering silver, Lyriel met with Titania Moonglow, the regal faerie queen. Titania listened intently as Lyriel relayed thedire news of the undead invasion and therise of the necromancer.

This is gravenews indeed, Titania said, her voice lled with concern. The fae havelong knownof theprophecy, but wedid not expect it to come to pass so soon.

Lyriel bowedher head, her voice urgent. "Please, QueenTitania. We need theaid of thefae if weare to stand against this evil. Yourmagicand your

wisdom could turn thetide of battle."

Titania was silent for a long moment, her eyes distant. Finally, she spoke, her voice lled with determination. Thefae will stand with you, Lyriel Silvermoon. Wecannot allow this darkness to consumetheworld we hold dear.

Withthefae pledged to thecause, Lyriel knew that thealliance was nearly complete. All that remained was to seektheaid of the erce orc tribes, a task that wouldrequire all of her diplomatic skills and courage.

As Lyriel madeher waythrough thewild lands of theorcs, shecameface to face with GrokSkullcrusher, themighty chieftain of theBloodfang tribe. Groklistened impassively as Lyriel spokeof theundead threat and the need for unity amongthe races.

TheBloodfang tribe cares little for thetroubles of elves and humans, Groksaid, his voice a low growl. Whyshould we ght your battles?

Lyriel met theorc's gazeun inchingly, her voice steady. Becauseif we fall, you will fall as well. Thenecromancerand his allies will not stop until all life is extinguished. Wemust stand together, or wewill surely perish alone.

Grokwas silent for a long moment, his eyes searching Lyriel's face for any sign of deceit. Finally, henodded, his expression grim. TheBloodfang tribe will ght besideyou, elf. But markmywords, if you betray us, wewill not hesitate to turn our blades against you.

Lyriel nodded, her heart racing with a mix of relief and trepidation. I understand, Chieftain Grok. Weare allies in this ght, and I will not forget thetrust you haveplaced in me.

Withthealliance forged, Lyriel returned to Dawnhold, wherethe gathered leaders of theraces met to plan their next move. QueenElara, King Balin, Titania Moonglow, and GrokSkullcrusher stood together, their differences set aside in theface of thecommon threat.

As they pored over maps and discussed strategy, a dark gure emerged from theshadows. Lyriel's hand ewto her bow, but QueenElara raised a hand, staying her guard.

Peace, Lyriel, shesaid, her voice calm. This is Vladimir Crimsonthirst, a vampirelord whohas pledged his aid to our cause.

Vladimir bowed, his pale face etched with a sardonic smile. I haveno love for theliving, hesaid, his voice smoothas silk. "But I haveeven less love for

theundead. Theythreaten thedelicate balanceof life and death, and for that, they must be destroyed."

Lyriel eyed thevampirewarily, but shecould not denythevalue of his support. WithVladimir's knowledgeof theundead and his own dark powers, they stood a better chanceof defeating thenecromancerand his allies.

As theleaders of thealliance nalized their plans, Lyriel couldn't shake the feeling that thetrue test was yet to come. Theundead dragon still circled theskies, and thenecromancer's powergrew with each passing day.

But as shelooked around at thefaces of her allies, Lyriel felt a icker of hope. Theywereunited now, boundbya commoncauseand a shared determination to savetheir world from thedarkness that threatened to engulf it.

Andso, as theblood moonhunglow in thesky and theundead legions marched ever closer, theheroes of therealm prepared for thebattle of their lives. Thefate of theworld hungin thebalance, and only through courage, sacri ce, and unity wouldthey haveanyhopeof emerging victorious.

Thestage was set, theplayers assembled, and theBlood Moon Prophecy movedinexorably towards its climax. Theheroes of therealm had gathered, but thetrue test of their strength and resolve was yet to come.

Chapter 3: The Battle of Dawnhold

As thesun roseover thecity of Dawnhold, theair was thick with tension and anticipation. Thestreets wereeerily quiet, savefor the occasional clatter of armorand weapons as thecity's defenders tooktheir positions along thewalls and battlements.

Alaric Dawnbringerstood atop thecity's main gate, his eyes scanning the horizon for anysign of theundead horde. Besidehim, Lyriel Silvermoon and Thorin Ironheart waited, their weapons at the ready.

They will come, Alaric said, his voice grim. Theundead dragon has been circling thecity for days, and our scouts report that the necromancer's armyis onthe march.

Lyriel nodded, her bowheld loosely in her hand. Weare ready, she said, her voice steady. Thealliance stands strong, and wewill not falter in the face of this darkness.

Thorin grunted in agreement, his hand resting onthehilt of his axe. The dwarves of Ironhold will not let this city fall, hesaid, his voice gruff. We will stand with you until the end.

As they spoke, a distant roar echoed across thesky. Theundead dragon, Dracul, soared into view, its skeletal wings casting a shadow over the city. Thedefenders onthewalls let loose a volley of arrows, but the dragon's bonyhidede ected them like rain.

Archers, concentrateyour re onthedragon's wings! Alaric shouted, his voice ringing out over thedin of battle. Wemust bring it downbefore it can wreakhavoconthe city!

As thearchers redoubled their efforts, a shimmering portal opened behind thecity's main gate. Titania Moonglow emerged, anked bya contingent of faerie warriors. Their gossamerwings glinted in thesunlight, and