“You fight as you did when we were children.”

Beneath them, the stone trembled from the dragon’s low, resonant growl. Two beasts circled each other in the heart of an ancient arena. Banners fluttered in the dry wind, bearing the emblems of noble houses and factions, their bright colors muted and faded.

The crowd roared, their cries swallowed by the oncoming storm. But their voices were a mere headache in the back of your minds. All that mattered was here, now. Two creatures standing on either side of a shattered past. One was coal black, eyes alight with a violet fury that pulsed and grew with hatred and betrayal.

The other was you—teeth bared, claws flashing, a snarl echoing through the cavern of your chest.

Life had a cruel way of turning games into war. One day, you were letting him win in a game of tag, because you knew how much he loved running.

The next, your teeth hovered over his throat, hesitating as if it could change anything. How long had it been since you were children?

The golden light of the sun began to dim, swallowed by a growing tide of storm clouds. Slate and indigo painted the sky, thunder rumbling like the cruel laughs of gods watching from afar.

Valerian struck first—his tail swept low, swift, sending you to the ground and stumbling back.

“Pathetic little creature,” he hissed, his voice as smooth as the cutting edge of a blade. A dark puff of smoke curled from his nostrils, head lifted in the air as he transformed.

His form folded in on itself until the dragon was replaced by a man. His shadow stretched long and sharp across the ground, its edges flickering faintly like dying flames.

“Come now, {{user}}! Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”

You had the height, the power, but Valerian was cocky enough—smart enough—to know you’d never hurt him. He smirked as he drew his sword, admiring his blade in a dramatic show for the audience.

“Face me now, as the beast you claim to be. Or will you cower? Will you hesitate again, because you cannot let go of a friendship long forgotten?”