I'm an Extra, so What?

They made camp at the edge of the thawed basin, snow turned to slush and steam rising faintly off the stone where Snow's fire had kissed it. No more beasts came. No more whispers. Just stillness.

But it wasn't peace.

It was the breath before a scream.

Serene sat near the remains of their fire, repairing the leather straps on her gauntlet.

Her hands trembled slightly—not from cold, but from the weight of what they'd seen. "That… thing. The Warden. It wasn't alive. It was bound."

Arthur, pacing slowly nearby, nodded. "Its heart was a fragment. One of the obelisk shards. That's what's keeping the corruption alive. Someone's embedding them in guardians, using the anchors as prisons instead of stabilizers."

"And the fragments get stronger with every anchor we reach," Gregor added. "I felt it. That one hit harder than the last."

Luka sat apart, sharpening his blades. His gaze remained on Snow, who rested by the fire, eyes half-lidded, small sparks of energy still flickering through his wings. The baby dragon had grown again—subtle, but undeniable. His horns curved just a bit more, his tail longer, his voice stronger.

And Luka had seen something else.

When Snow had unleashed his flame, it hadn't just burned the Warden.

It had sung.

The same melody the temple used—the song that had first pulled them through the forest—was part of Snow now. No longer external guidance. It was his.

"Three anchors," Luka said softly. "One buried. One sealed. One waiting."

Serene looked up. "We've seen the first two."

Arthur furrowed his brow. "Which means the last one…"

"Was never corrupted," Luka said. "It didn't fall. It hid."

Gregor raised a brow. "Then where is it?"

Snow stirred.

He lifted his head slowly, as if waking from a deep dream, and turned toward the south. His eyes glowed faintly.

A single, soft chirp escaped him.

And the song returned.

Stronger than ever.

So strong, they all heard it.

No longer distant. No longer half-remembered.

It was everywhere—in the air, in the trees, in the stones beneath them.

And it wasn't a melody of mourning.

It was a call.

Summoning them home.

Two Days Later – The Sunken Vale

The song guided them south, beyond forest, beyond frost, beyond familiar trails.

Until they reached the edge of the world.

A great ravine yawned before them—an ancient scar in the earth where the land had collapsed long ago, forming a valley that no maps dared to chart. The terrain shimmered with heat and memory. The soil was black glass. The sky above was cloudless, but heavy with pressure.

And in the center of that ravine, cradled within the arms of two great stone wings—

Was a ruin.

The third anchor.

The dragon's cradle.

Luka stopped at the rim, his chest tightening.

"This place…" Serene breathed. "It wasn't corrupted. It was forgotten."

Snow took to the air, circling high above the ruins, then diving slowly toward it.

The others followed down the winding path—uneven, half-buried in ash and overgrowth. As they approached, the temperature rose.

Warm winds stirred the grass. Small sparks danced across the rocks. Magic thrummed here—untouched, waiting.

The temple at the center was smaller than the first—but older. Its pillars bore no vines, no rot. Only dragonfire carvings. Suns. Spirals. Flames rising from the earth.

At the heart of the ruin stood the last obelisk.

Whole.

Unbroken.

Golden runes spiraled its surface. The light within it pulsed gently, like a sleeping heart.

Snow landed in front of it.

And the obelisk opened.

The stones shifted, revealing a hollow chamber.

Inside rested a crystal egg.

No bigger than Snow.

Luka stepped forward, hand unconsciously tightening on his blade.

Serene gasped softly. "That's not an anchor."

Arthur whispered, "It's a seed."

And Snow…

Snow stepped forward and placed a claw on the crystal shell.

The egg pulsed with light.

A resonance surged outward, echoing through the entire ruin. The walls lit with dragon runes. Flames danced along the carvings. The melody returned—not as a whisper, not as a song—

But as a voice.

"The cycle ends."

The egg cracked.

Not with hatching.

With release.

A beam of light shot upward into the sky—straight into the heavens. The clouds above the world split. The shadow that had loomed over them for days finally recoiled, as if burned by the light.

But far beyond the ravine, atop the highest tower in the land, the enemy rose from his throne.

He had no name the world remembered.

His shadow stretched across the land as he whispered into the void, "So... you've found it."

He raised a hand toward the sky—

And tore the stars open.

The sky cracked open like shattered glass.

A rift tore through the clouds, spilling shadow and flame in equal measure. The air thickened, the wind ceasing entirely as if the world itself was holding its breath.

From the rift emerged a figure cloaked in darkness, dripping with corruption and power. The Last Harbinger.

His eyes burned like molten embers, burning holes into the very soul of the land.

He hovered above the golden obelisk, his presence sucking the light from the air.

The ground trembled.

Snow hissed sharply, his tiny body bristling with newfound strength. His glowing eyes locked onto the Harbinger, a silent challenge in their depths.

Luka stepped forward, blades drawn, heart pounding.

"We end this. Here. Now."

Serene raised her shield, its radiant light pulsing in answer.

Gregor gripped his axe, muscles tense.

Arthur notched his bow, arrows shimmering with raw mana.

The Last Harbinger smiled—a cruel, cold smile that spoke of centuries of hatred and betrayal.

"Fools," he hissed. "You think you can stop the inevitable? The anchors are mine to command. The flame will burn—and you will all fall beneath its ashes."

With a wave of his hand, the rift widened.

Legions of corrupted beasts spilled forth—wyverns, harpies, shadow fiends—swarming like locusts, eager to consume.

But the melody surged.

Snow's voice joined the song—a pure, silver note that cut through the darkness like a blade.

The corrupted horde surged forward like a living wave, a dark tide rolling across the scorched earth. Wings beat furiously, claws scraped stone, and shrieks tore through the air—a chaotic symphony of malice and despair.

Luka's blades flashed, each strike carving through twisted flesh and shadow. The leyline fire that danced along the steel hissed as it met corrupted sinew, burning away the rot. But for every beast felled, two more took its place.

Serene stood firm at the temple's edge, her shield glowing with pure light as she wove barriers of radiant mana. Each pulse repelled foes, but even her strength waned under the unrelenting assault.

Gregor roared, charging into the fray with his great axe, cleaving arcs of shimmering force that scattered the nearest attackers. "Hold the line!" he bellowed. His eyes never left Luka's, a silent vow passing between them.

Arthur, perched on a crumbling pillar, loosed arrow after arrow, each streaking like bolts of lightning. His aim was unerring, but exhaustion weighed on him, the wound in his ribs a constant throb.

Above the chaos, Snow hovered—no longer the baby dragon they had known.

His form had grown. His wings spanned wide, shimmering with threads of silver and gold. His eyes glowed with ancient wisdom and fierce determination.

He sang.

The melody rose, a soaring chorus that wrapped around the battlefield like a tide of light.

Beasts faltered, their corrupted forms trembling as the purity of the song washed over them. Tendrils of flame, radiant and unyielding, spiraled from Snow's mouth, engulfing foes in cleansing fire.

But the Last Harbinger was unfazed.

He raised his hand, and the rift above the vale deepened, pouring forth darker, more terrifying creatures. Giants wreathed in shadows, serpents with eyes of burning coal, and spirits that clawed at the very fabric of reality.

Luka lunged at the Harbinger, blades singing with fury. The two clashed—steel against shadow, fire against corruption. The air crackled with energy as their battle shook the ground beneath them.

"Why fight, little dragon?" the Harbinger snarled, his voice a rasp of ancient malice. "This world belongs to decay and ruin. Your flame is but a flicker destined to be snuffed out."

Snow roared in defiance, flames bursting forth like the sun's own fury. The glow from his body intensified, illuminating the vale as he joined Luka in the fight.

Serene and Gregor pushed back the horde, their movements a blur of grace and power. Arthur's arrows found their marks, his precision growing as desperation sharpened his senses.

But as the battle raged, the ground trembled again—deeper and more ominous.

From beneath the ruins, the final anchor stirred.

Golden light erupted, casting long shadows and drawing the fighters' eyes skyward.

The Harbinger hissed, fury twisting his features. "No! The cycle must continue!"

With a terrible cry, he unleashed a wave of dark energy aimed directly at Snow.

Luka threw himself forward, blades intercepting the blast—but the force slammed him backward, skidding across shattered stone.

Snow faltered, his glow dimming under the onslaught.

"Now, Snow!" Luka called, struggling to rise.

The baby dragon's eyes burned brighter, feeding on the ancient power awakened by the final anchor.

He rose, wings beating strong and sure.

And the song—no longer distant—became a battle hymn.

A promise.

A reckoning.

Snow unleashed a torrent of silver-gold flame, not just burning but purifying.

The Harbinger screamed, the shadows around him fracturing and dissolving beneath the dragon's wrath.

The corrupted beasts faltered, then fled.

The rift above the vale began to close, stitches of light sewing the wound in the sky.

As silence fell, Luka staggered forward, breath ragged but victorious.

Snow shrank back to his smaller form, exhausted but radiant.

The last anchor pulsed softly, its light steady and pure.

The world had been saved—but at a cost.

Serene approached Luka, her voice gentle. "The cycle has ended. For now."

Arthur, leaning on his bow, nodded slowly. "But the song... it will never truly fade."

Gregor grinned, wiping sweat and grime from his brow. "We'll be ready when it rises again."

Luka looked down at Snow, a small, fierce creature who was more than just a baby dragon now.

He smiled.

"We did it."