Cursed Dragon Gorge was a blighted land.

The Black Mountains hadn’t always been black. Centuries ago, the evil dragon Adonis was sealed here by dragon-slaying heroes. His overwhelming malevolence seeped out relentlessly, corrupting the entire mountain range stretching over a thousand miles. For hundreds of years, not a blade of grass grew on these peaks. Perpetual storm clouds choked the sky. Beasts and birds twisted into demons, making the gorge lethally treacherous.

Thankfully, the seal contained Adonis’s corruption. Not a wisp of it leaked beyond the mountains, allowing the Heavenly Wonder Continent to flourish.

Civilizations thrived across this vast, fertile land. Though minor clashes occurred between nations and races, peace largely held. Three powers maintained a stable triangle: the human duchies, the beastkin tribes, and the Elven Forest. Smaller races lived securely within this shared peace.

Then—a rumor spread like wildfire across the continent, shattering centuries of harmony:

*Adonis’s seal had broken!*

Every race mobilized instantly. The decennial Continental Congress convened early. After fierce debate, they united. Champions from every faction would join forces to slay the evil dragon!

An epic battle erupted in the heart of Cursed Dragon Gorge!

“I’ve found its weakness!” roared a lion-headed beastman—Turhan, the beastkin Grand Shaman. His thunderous voice cut through the battlefield chaos, reaching every ear. “Its forehead! The third eye there! Strike it to cripple the beast!” Turhan bellowed, oblivious to the ground cracking beneath his feet.

A massive white shape suddenly lunged. Jaws wide open, it seized Turhan’s clothes and flung him aside—saving him from being incinerated by molten rock.

It was a giant white fox. Riding its back sat an elven beauty. Golden waist-length hair flowed over snow-pale skin. Slender eyes, delicate brows, a straight nose, and cherry lips adorned her tall, graceful frame. An aura of untouchable nobility radiated from her. Her focus was absolute, sapphire eyes locked onto the black dragon coiling in the sky. Every muscle was primed for combat.

Turhan gasped in relief, scrambling up. “I owe you my life, Elven King Melissara!”

Melissara gave a curt nod. “We fight together.”

Disaster struck. Violet-black flames engulfed Adonis’s colossal form. With an earth-shattering roar, the dragon plummeted like a falling star, scorching everything beneath its wings to ash!

Melissara and Turhan had sensed the danger. They joined nearby warriors to raise a barrier just in time. Many others vanished in an instant—incinerated to ash.

Grim faces turned upward. Hatred and terror deepened as the dragon’s mocking roar echoed across the gorge.

Melissara merely frowned. Elves lived long lives. Though young for an Elven King, her two centuries of experience kept her emotions steady. Besides, no elven warriors had fallen.

She’d seen the third eye. As Adonis descended, the blood-red vertical pupil on its forehead had been unmistakable.

“Channel your power to me,” Melissara commanded, her calm voice steadying the panicked crowd. “I will deliver the killing blow.”

The white fox shrank. Its body reshaped like clay, solidifying into a gleaming white longsword in Melissara’s grip.

“Loran,” Melissara said to the elven woman beside her.

Loran bowed. “Understood!”

Facing the survivors, Loran spread her hands. “Channel your magic through me!”

They obeyed. On this perilous dragon hunt, Melissara’s strength had earned their trust. Relying on the strong was instinct in desperate times.

Magic surged through Loran into Melissara. A soft light enveloped the Elven King like armor. Her sword hummed, its edge glinting coldly.

Adonis sneered at these insignificant creatures still daring to resist. Its massive body coiled again. The third eye glowed crimson. Violet-black flames erupted anew.

Another sky-splitting roar shook the continent. The black dragon descended once more—a king reclaiming his throne!

Melissara stepped beyond the barrier. She lifted her head, staring up at the mountain of fire hurtling toward her. Alone, she faced apocalyptic fury.

Feeling the magic coursing through her, breathing the scorching air, Melissara leaped. Her slender form blossomed like a lotus. Sword thrust forward, a single point of cold light pierced the inferno. The white blade struck true—driving deep into Adonis’s third eye!

*“ROOOOAAAR!!!”*

The dragon’s agonized shriek shattered canyon walls. Boulders crashed down. Adonis slammed into a mountain peak. Its violet-black flames snuffed out. The earth trembled.

The survivors stared in awe. That soaring figure battling the dragon—she mirrored the heroes who’d sealed Adonis centuries ago. Eternal. Majestic.

Loran was first to move. She rushed through the dust, finding Melissara crumpled among rubble, her body torn and burned.

“Your Highness!” Loran cried, hands glowing with elven healing magic. She’d never seen the Elven King so broken.

“I’m fine,” Melissara rasped, her voice steady despite the pain.

She tested her limbs. Her left arm was shattered. Ribs likely broken. Burns covered her body—her right hand worst of all, charred black. These wounds were manageable. Elven magic could heal most. The rest would mend in the Fountain of Life back in the Elven Forest.

Leaning on Loran, Melissara rose. They limped toward the now-silent dragon as cheers erupted. Warriors gathered around the near-dead beast.

*Is it over?* Melissara wondered. What would fill the long centuries ahead? She still had no answer as they neared Adonis.

Suddenly—the dragon lurched upright! Wings beat violently as it shot skyward!

Panic seized the crowd. Had it faked death to lure them? Then—blinding violet-black light erupted from Adonis’s body. Melissara squinted, watching the massive form curl inward, shrinking rapidly. It landed softly as a waist-high oval object.

The light faded. Melissara stared. This… was an egg? Yes—an enormous egg etched with eerie patterns.

Confused murmurs rose.

“Was Adonis… not male?”

“So this is a dragon egg?”

“What hatches from an evil dragon’s egg? Another evil dragon?”

“Do we smash it? Or cook it into soup?”

No one dared approach. Weapons lifted again, aimed at the egg.

Sensing Melissara’s intent to inspect it, Loran warned, “It could be dangerous, Your Highness!”

Melissara waved her off, stepping forward. Loran reluctantly followed, sword drawn, eyes locked on the egg.

Melissara studied the shell. Before Loran’s fearful gaze, she reached out with her half-healed right hand and tapped it lightly.

*Crack!*

The tiny fracture made every warrior flinch. Weapons snapped up, ready to strike.

Loran moved to shield Melissara—but was gently pushed aside.

Melissara trusted her instincts. This held no threat.

The crack didn’t spread. It seemed accidental. Yet Melissara knew she’d barely touched it.

*Is it waiting for me to open it?* A faint smile touched her blood-golden lips—a rare bloom unseen by anyone.

Her index finger traced the shell. Cracks spiderwebbed along its path. She drew a perfect circle. The fragments fell away, revealing a hole.

Above the gorge, the storm clouds parted. For the first time in centuries, sunlight streamed down—pouring through the hole into the egg.

Melissara’s breath caught. *Human?*

A delicate face filled the opening. A human girl. Thick lashes rested on flushed cheeks. Cherry lips parted slightly in peaceful sleep. Through the gap, Melissara glimpsed the child’s bare, curled form. *She must be so soft and warm to hold…*

Instinctively, Melissara stepped forward, blocking the hole—and others’ view.

“No danger,” she stated flatly.

Though none saw what lay inside, they lowered their weapons at the Elven King’s word. Only Loran remained tense. She’d glimpsed the child too.

*A girl inside an evil dragon’s egg? Nothing good could come of this.*

“Turn away,” Melissara ordered.

Bewildered but obedient, the crowd turned their backs.

Loran opened her mouth to protest—but Melissara’s sharp glance silenced her. Reluctantly, she turned.

Sounds of cracking shell and rustling cloth followed. Then Melissara stood before them, cradling a girl wrapped in her own tattered robe. Ink-black hair spilled over the Elven King’s shoulder.

She handed the child to Loran. “We return now.”

Cheers exploded again. Joy lit every face—except Loran’s. Staring at the sleeping girl in her arms, complex emotions flickered in her eyes.