Dusk enveloped the field in a somber twilight, shadows stretching across the uneven terrain. The air was thick with the scent of earth and blood, marking the aftermath of a fierce struggle. The indigo sky, studded with emerging stars, seemed to silently witness the tragedy below.

Elara lay on the ground, her once-golden scales now darkened with crimson, a testament to her countless wounds. Her grand wings, torn and battered, were weighed down by arrows and javelins. Her breaths were shallow, each one a painful effort.

Is this how it ends? she pondered, her golden eyes reflecting the distant stars. Despite her pain, her heart grieved for a dream unfulfilled—a world where all creatures lived in peace. She had never harmed an intelligent being, even in self-defense.

Shifting her gaze to the fading light on the horizon, she whispered, "If only... they could see." Her voice, once powerful, now carried the weight of her wisdom and sorrow.

Elara reflected on her long life, the beauty she had seen, and the suffering she had endured. Perhaps my end will be a lesson, she thought. A reminder of what is lost when violence prevails. Even in her final moments, she hoped her sacrifices would not be in vain.

As her vision dimmed, Elara clung to the hope that peace might still find a way. Her breaths grew fainter, her spirit enduring in the dark field where the last flame of a noble dragon flickered.