That night, the twin white moons hung low in the sky, their pale, silvery light casting an ethereal glow over the White Dragon citadel. The towering spires of the great city, once a proud symbol of the dragons' indomitable power and unity, now stood as hollow sentinels, their grandeur overshadowed by an unshakable sense of impending doom. It was as if the very stones of the citadel could feel the weight of the inevitable end drawing near, their once-majestic forms now seeming to sag under the burden of time and despair. The air was thick with a quiet unease, a stillness that spoke of a world holding its breath.

  Viserion moved silently through the darkened halls of the citadel, his footsteps echoing faintly against the cold stone floors. The corridors, once alive with the bustling energy of his kin, now felt empty and lifeless, their shadows stretching long and ominous in the moonlight. His mind was heavy, burdened by the weight of the decisions made earlier in the day. The fate of his people rested on his shoulders, and the enormity of it all pressed down on him like a suffocating weight. He walked with purpose, his silver eyes glinting in the dim light, their cold intensity betraying the turmoil within.

  As he approached his mother's chambers, he found the door slightly ajar, a soft, golden light spilling into the hallway from within. The gentle sound of breathing reached his ears, a quiet rhythm that brought a fleeting sense of calm to his troubled mind. He pushed the door open gently, stepping inside to find his sister, Serena, seated beside their mother's bed. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of sunlight, and her sharp violet eyes, so like their father's, lifted to meet his as he entered.

  "She's sleeping peacefully," Serena whispered, her voice barely audible, as though she feared disturbing the fragile stillness of the room. She glanced down at their mother, who lay motionless beneath the silken sheets, her frail form barely rising and falling with each shallow breath. Lady Selena, once the vibrant and indomitable matriarch of the White Dragon Clan, the strength behind their father's reign, now seemed a shadow of her former self. Grief and time had taken their toll, leaving her weakened and diminished, her once-piercing eyes now closed in uneasy slumber.

  Viserion stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, his gaze fixed on the woman who had given him life and shaped him into the leader he had become. Her face, though lined with age and sorrow, still carried the quiet dignity that had always defined her. He moved silently to Serena's side, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She reached up, her fingers resting lightly on top of his, and for a moment, the siblings shared a wordless bond, their silent communication speaking volumes.

  Finally, Serena broke the silence, her voice laced with worry. "The court today... I heard it was intense. What did you decide?"

  Viserion's silver eyes darkened, and he sighed deeply, the weight of the day's events pressing heavily on him. "The decision has been made, Sister. We have no choice but to leave Eos. The portal beneath the city is our only hope."

  Serena's gaze shifted to the window, where the barren landscape stretched endlessly into the horizon, a desolate wasteland that had once been their home. "And if the portal doesn't work? What if we're stepping into a trap?"

  Viserion tightened his grip on her shoulder, his voice resolute. "We cannot stay here, Sister. Eos is dying. The water will be gone in a few years, and without it, we all perish. The clans will not survive if we remain. Whatever lies on the other side of that portal... we must face it together."

  Serena's lips tightened, her emotions wavering between fear and hope. "And the Celestials of Light? The warning from Lady Nira—"

  "I know," Viserion interrupted softly, his voice steady but firm. "I haven't forgotten. But we can't afford to live in fear of legends. The elders have offered their lives to activate the portal. We must trust that they know what they're doing."

  Serena shook her head slightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Brother, it feels like we're leaving everything behind... our home, our memories. It's all slipping away."

  Viserion turned to face her fully, his hand slipping from her shoulder. "We're not abandoning everything. We're carrying our legacy with us, wherever we go. Father fought to give us a future, and I'll make sure that future doesn't end here. Trust me, Sister. It's time to go."

  Serena exhaled a shaky breath and nodded, her resistance finally breaking. "I trust you, brother. I just hope... I hope we're doing the right thing."

  "We are," Viserion said, though the weight of the words pressed heavily on him. He looked down at their mother, her face peaceful in sleep. "Mother, rest well. We'll be leaving soon."

  Two days later, the city of Elarion stood silent, its streets empty and abandoned. The once-bustling metropolis, a hub of life and activity, now lay desolate, its grandeur a mere memory. The members of the five great dragon clans gathered beneath the city, their footsteps echoing through the massive underground halls as they made their way toward the ancient portal.

  The scene was awe-inspiring, the sheer scale of the chambers beneath the city beyond comprehension. Towering stone columns, wider than ten dragons standing side by side, stretched up into the darkness, their origins shrouded in mystery. The walls were adorned with strange carvings, their designs alien and incomprehensible, completely unlike the architecture of the dragons above. The precision of the carvings was unsettling, their cold, calculated lines suggesting a craftsmanship far beyond the capabilities of any dragon. It was as though the structure had been built by something other than dragons—something not of this world.

  Viserion led the White Dragons, a silent figure of strength among his 5,000 kin. Behind him, the Emberheart Clan followed, their fiery energy palpable even in the dim light, their numbers totaling 4,700. The Ironclaw Clan, fierce and proud, brought 4,000 of their own, their scales glinting like polished steel. The Stormfang Clan, the largest of the clans, walked with 6,000 members, their scales shimmering with the faint glow of storm clouds. Last came the Shadewing Clan, their 5,000 members blending seamlessly into the shadows of the massive underground chamber, their presence almost ghostly.

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  Together, they made their way through the endless labyrinth of tunnels and chambers, guided by the ancient knowledge of the elders. Yet, none could explain how or why such a structure existed beneath their city. It was a mystery that had baffled scholars for millennia, its origins lost to time.

  Tomo, walking beside Viserion, glanced around with wide, curious eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper as he leaned in toward his friend. "I've seen many things in my life, but this... How could something like this exist beneath us all this time?"

  Viserion shook his head, his eyes scanning the strange carvings on the walls. "I don't know, Tomo. This place feels... wrong. Like it was built by something ancient, something older than even the first dragons."

  Tomo's eyes narrowed as he ran his hand along one of the smooth stone columns. "It's almost as if it was built by beings who weren't meant to be here—beings who knew things we could never understand."

  Viserion's lips pressed into a thin line. "Or didn't want us to understand. Whatever this place is, it's far older than we imagined. I've seen nothing in our history that explains it."

  Tomo chuckled softly, though there was no humor in his voice. "Perhaps it was built by the Celestials of Light."

  Viserion shot him a sharp look. "Don't even joke about that. We already have too many unknowns to deal with."

  As they approached the central chamber where the portal lay, the air grew heavier, charged with a strange, otherworldly energy. The portal itself, a massive stone archway inscribed with ancient dragon runes, stood at the far end of the hall, its surface shimmering with a faint, pulsing light. The clans gathered in silence, their gazes fixed on the portal, knowing that their future now lay in whatever awaited them beyond it.

  The air in the ancient chamber hummed with an eerie tension as Elyra, the scholar of the White Dragons, stepped forward at Viserion's silent nod. The flickering light of the portal reflected off her scales as she walked toward the massive stone archway. She reached out, tracing her fingers over the intricate, glowing symbols inscribed along its surface. The dragon tongue was ancient, older than any text they had studied in their archives.

  Elyra's voice was low and melodic, slipping into the forgotten language of their ancestors. She began to read aloud, the guttural and smooth tones of the ancient dragon tongue filling the vast hall:

  "Th'zarr vos shal'ki den. Kal moran yi drak'nu... Althis s'aran vos shul temyn."

  The words hung in the air like a chant from another age, each syllable vibrating through the stone walls, resonating deep within the bones of those present. As she read, the inscriptions on the portal grew brighter, flickering with a soft, ethereal glow that pulsed like a heartbeat.

  Viserion stood at the head of the room, his eyes sharp and focused on Elyra, yet his heart was heavy. His gaze flicked to his mother as she approached quietly from behind. Lady Selena, though frail from her illness, moved with grace. She gently took Viserion's hand in her own, her touch soft but steady.

  They exchanged a long, knowing glance. No words were needed between them. Selena's eyes, filled with both sorrow and pride, communicated the weight of what was to come. Viserion squeezed her hand gently, offering silent reassurance. They both understood that the path ahead was uncertain, but it was one they had to take.

  Time seemed to slow as Elyra's reading came to an end. The glow from the portal intensified, illuminating the vast chamber with a soft, otherworldly light. Elyra turned slowly, her face serious and calm, her voice clear as she addressed everyone.

  "Five are needed for the doorway to open," she announced. "One from each clan. This decision must be made by all, not just one. We must stand together, united, or not at all."

  A murmur spread through the gathered clans, but the silence quickly fell again as all eyes turned toward the leaders and elders of each clan. There was no hesitation, only the weight of the decision ahead.

  From the White Dragons, an elder named Khadros, a wise and venerable figure known for his strength and resolve, stepped forward. His gaze locked with Viserion's as he passed by, his voice calm and firm as he spoke.

  "For the future, young leader," he said, his words carrying a sense of finality. Viserion inclined his head in respect, knowing the sacrifice this elder was about to make.

  One by one, the others stepped forward. Ragna, the elder of the Ironclaw Clan, followed next, her imposing figure radiating a fierce determination. Valdran of the Emberheart Clan moved gracefully, his eyes alight with the fire of his heritage. From the Stormfang Clan came Falthor, an elder known for his wisdom, his large frame commanding attention. And finally, from the Shadewing Clan, Vyron, a stoic and mysterious elder, stepped forward, joining the others in the center of the chamber.

  Elyra nodded in solemn acknowledgment. "All of you," she gestured toward the elders, "step forward and stand on these five inscriptions carved into the stone. Transform into your true forms."

  The five elders exchanged glances, the gravity of the moment pressing down on them all. With steady steps, they moved into position, each standing on a large circular inscription glowing faintly beneath their feet.

  The room held its breath as the elders began to shift, their human forms dissolving as ancient magic surged through them. The sound of cracking bones and the rustling of immense wings filled the air. Each elder's transformation was as graceful as it was powerful, their forms stretching upward, growing larger by the second.

  Khadros of the White Dragons transformed first. His scales gleamed like frost-covered diamonds, shimmering with the purity of ice. His wings unfurled, vast and wide, casting long shadows over the chamber. His towering stature was awe-inspiring, standing over forty meters tall, his silver eyes glowing with ancient power.

  Ragna of Ironclaw was next. Her transformation was fierce, her scales dark as iron, with jagged edges that glinted like polished steel. Her claws dug into the stone beneath her as she let out a low growl, her muscular body exuding raw strength. Her wings beat once, sending a gust of wind through the chamber.

  Valdran of Emberheart ignited the room with his transformation. His scales burned with a molten glow, like embers from a dying fire. The heat radiating from him was palpable, warming the air around him. His dragon form was lean but powerful, his eyes blazing with an inner fire.

  Falthor of Stormfang shifted next, his body becoming a tempest incarnate. His storm-grey scales rippled with energy, crackling with small flashes of lightning. His wings seemed to merge with the clouds, creating a swirling vortex above him. His sheer presence commanded respect.

  Lastly, Vyron of Shadewing took his true form. His transformation was silent, his scales so black they seemed to absorb the light around him. His dragon form was sleek and menacing, his wings unfurling like shadows come to life. He moved with a predatory grace, his piercing red eyes scanning the room.

  Together, the five elders stood like ancient titans, their towering forms filling the massive chamber. The room seemed small in comparison to their vast, primal power. The gathered members of the clans watched in awe, the sheer majesty and strength of their elders reminding them of the greatness they came from.

  Elyra stepped back, her voice calm but firm as she addressed the room. "It is done. The sacrifice has begun."

  The air grew heavier, the ground beneath the five elders' feet pulsing with energy as the inscriptions began to glow brighter. The portal responded in kind, its light intensifying until the entire chamber was bathed in a blinding radiance. The ancient stone hummed with power, vibrating with the force of magic older than any of them could comprehend.