Chapter I: The Age of Dragons

Before the clocks of kings first carved the sky in measured, mortal time,

When earth was raw and thunder spoke in pulses vast, primeval, sublime,

There ruled the elder sovereigns crowned in flame and shadowed prime,

The dragons, deathless architects whose breath made stone to climb.

They coiled round newborn mountains like a jeweler shaping gold,

They carved the seas to steaming scars where molten tempests rolled,

Their wings were storms of iron night, their eyes were suns grown old,

And every peak and canyon rang with names their voices told.

They drank the lightning from the clouds and spat it back as fire,

They bent the forests to their will and crowned each blazing spire,

No law but pride, no throne but sky, no rival to conspire,

For none could match their endless years nor challenge their desire.

Beneath them crept the scattered tribes of fragile, fleeting men,

Who huddled in the ash of caves and prayed to stars and when,

They whispered fearful lullabies of talons, flame, and then,

They begged the dawn might hide their smoke from draconic sight again.

The dragons watched with ancient minds, contempt both cold and deep,

They marked mankind as passing dust, a harvest none would reap,

For what were years of human breath to those who did not sleep,

Who saw empires rise and fall as waves that barely keep?

Chapter II: Rome Rises

So passed the ages under scales and tyrant wings of night,

Until there rose a power forged in iron law and might,

A people bound by oath and road, by discipline and right,

Whose marching shook the trembling earth with ordered, human light.

From western hills and marble halls a crimson standard rose,

Where eagle crests and silver horns proclaimed Rome’s iron oaths,

And at their head stood Tuiticius, whose will no fear opposed,

A ruler tempered hard as steel, whose gaze like winter froze.

He spoke not loud but firm and clear: “No sky belongs to fear,

No tyrant born of fire or scale shall reign forever here,

For law and blade and mortal hands shall end this ancient year,

And break the chain that binds the world to draconic shadow near.”

He drilled his legions night and day beneath the iron sun,

Each shield aligned, each spear a line no chaos could undone,

They moved like one relentless tide no terror made to run,

A living wall of mortal will the dragons had not known.

Chapter III: War of Fire

Then came the wars that split the skies with thunder, ash, and cries,

Where burning shadows crossed the clouds like eclipses in their rise,

And legion horns beneath them roared defiance toward the skies,

As men advanced through raining flame with iron in their eyes.

Great dragons fell like shattered hills beneath the spear-storm’s rain,

While others scorched whole cohorts down in rivers red as pain,

The earth itself seemed torn apart by fire, blood, and strain,

And victory walked always close beside unending losses’ chain.

Tuiticius stood unbowed amid the furnace of the fight,

His armor black with ash and sparks that glimmered in the night,

He raised the eagle standard high against a blazing height,

And swore mankind would claim the world by discipline and might.

At last the dragon hosts were broken, scattered far and wide,

To frozen peaks, to desert wastes, to caverns deep they hide,

And Rome stood crowned the master now of earth and sea and tide,

While human banners filled the lands once ruled by draconic pride.

Chapter IV: The Passing of Ages

So centuries like drifting leaves passed silent through the years,

And Rome grew rich with roads and law instead of smoke and fears,

The songs of dragons dimmed to myths recited half in jeers,

And children laughed at tales once whispered trembling through tears.

Yet still some battlefields lay black beneath the stubborn sun,

Where glassed earth marked the ancient wars the legions thought them won,

And elders spoke in hushed respect of horrors long undone,

Though many claimed no such beasts lived nor ever truly were.

But deep beneath a shattered range where molten rivers sleep,

Where echoes coil through caverns carved by centuries so deep,

There stirred a mind that never died nor slumbered long to keep,

An ancient name remembered still in legends old and steep.

Chapter V: Flammarion Awakens

Flammarion, last scion born of elder draconic line,

Whose memory held the fall of kin like scars in living spine,

He woke to find a human world beneath the Roman sign,

And hatred burned within his heart like sacrificial wine.

He rose with wings that shook the peaks and split the mountain stone,

His roar like judgement thundered loud across the lands now known,

He saw the roads, the towers, laws that claimed the world as owned,

And swore the age of men would end as dragon wrath was shown.

He struck the farms with calculated flame, not blind to rage,

He shattered aqueduct and road like tearing out a page,

He left the eagles charred and black as warnings to the age,

A scholar’s vengeance written fierce upon a burning stage.

Across the empire panic spread like sparks through summer grain,

For none alive had faced such might nor felt such ancient pain,

The senate halls once loud with pride fell hushed in dread again,

And whispers asked if Rome still ruled or dragons would regain.

Old veterans traced forgotten scars and spoke in voices low,

Of Tuiticius, iron will, and battles long ago,

Yet many feared no mortal strength could match this ancient foe,

For Flammarion seemed a god returned to strike a fatal blow.

Chapter VI: The Mortal Champions

Now legions march once more beneath the crimson eagle bright,

Yet doubt walks close beside their ranks beneath the moonlit night,

For who can say if steel and law can stand against such might,

Or if the world will once again be ruled by wings of fright?

At their head rode Ulysses Nardius, stern in burnished light,

His armor traced with laurel gold that caught the dawn’s first sight,

A scar ran pale across his cheek, a mark of ancient fight,

Yet still his gaze burned steady, sharp, unyielding as his might.

He held the eagle standard high with calm, unshaken hand,

As if the weight of Rome itself obeyed his lone command,

For discipline was in his breath, and order in his stand,

A living wall of iron will upon the trembling land.

No boastful roar escaped his lips, no wild or reckless cry,

He spoke in measured tones that carried firm yet dry,

“Let dragons shake the heavens wide and blacken all the sky,

For Rome endures through mortal hearts that neither break nor die.”

The legionaries watched him close as night winds stirred their crests,

They felt their fear grow quiet, stilled like storms at harbor rests,

For in his stance they saw the strength that steadies mortal chests,

A mortal man, yet bearing weight that only fate invests.

His eyes had studied ancient scrolls of wars long turned to dust,

He knew the price of victory carved in ash and rust,

Yet still he marched because he must, as every Roman must,

To guard the fragile world of law from fire, rage, and lust.

So Nardius advanced ahead where shadows pooled like tide,

The crimson eagle blazing fierce above his measured stride,

While somewhere high beyond the clouds a vast wing cut the wide,

And fate drew near the hour when flame and steel would collide.

Chapter VII: The Choice

So hear this tale, you reading now beyond the veil of time,

The ending waits unwritten still in fate’s unfinished rhyme,

For Rome may stand or dragons rise in fury vast, sublime,

And you are called to choose your part within this turning climb.

Step forth, take up the shield of will, let courage be your guide,

Stand fast where burning shadows fall and hold the human side,

For Flammarion’s wings already darken heaven far and wide,

And history waits for you to march where legends yet decide.

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~ Ulysses Nardo ~

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