Ash landed on the rocky valley floor, his boots slipping on loose stones, the heat of the Golden Amulet burning through his satchel like a live ember. The towering walls of the valley closed in, their rough surfaces blocking out the sky, offering tight paths to escape the dragon's reach.
His arm was bleeding through torn cloth, his leg throbbed as if smashed by a boulder, but he could still run, and he would use every ounce of strength to flee from the beast hunting him. The dragon's roar echoed, its dark form circling above, molten gold eyes locked onto him.
The Fangs of the Blue Dragon, slightly chipped but thrumming with fire, ice, and lightning magic, hung at his hips, ready if he was cornered. His wristband buzzed weakly, barely able to summon a thin shield, while the Grimoire pulsed in his satchel, its remaining energy offering a final lifeline to slow the dragon.
