[WP] The Dragon wins.

...

Beneath his flames and the weapons of men, the terrible armies of the West had crumbled.

With scales charred black by the fires of resistance, his great and glorious nobility was held in reverence beside the torn and blood-soaked banners of faith. Mortal constructions, holy men, priests, knights and warriors all limping proudly as they set their gauntlets to the Spire of the dark lord's ancient gates. It was in this that justice overcame brutality: Their crusade against the Dark Lord brought to a final conclusion.

Victory against the fiercest of odds. Swords and weapons raised to shout for glory and god alike.

The Ancient Dragon let his winds spread with pride, gusts of wind lifting beneath him and the rising light of morning. Upward, farther and farther he soared, approaching the source of all their troubles. The resonance of dark and hated objects overflowing with the brutal nightmarish magics of Chaos. Approaching their terrible guardian, alone.

Upon the Eastern tower of the terrible tower, he waited just as the dragon had long predicted. Armor dark, sword pierced deeply into the stone of the floor beside endless runic etchings of instilled magic and powers. Atop a throne of stone slabs, his mighty frame seemed almost pitiful beside the brilliance of the aura opened beyond him: A massive white expanse that held height to rival the dragon himself.

"So you wait for your end, Rodrick of the Black." The dragon sneered as the walls fell away, parted by both magics and wind to present a place for his claws to settle.

"So you come to bring it, Serpent of Merlin." The armored figure did not rise in response to the dramatic entry, nor show interest in the crumbling stone of roof and walls. Instead, the little motion that came revealed only a shadowed gaze from beneath a helm of rust. "I welcome you with open arms."

"The violence ends today. Your master ends today." The ancient drake reared back without patience, summoning the eternal and forbidden flames. "Let it be done."

As he roared, the heat came. White like lightning upon an open sky, firelike the sun and magic like the world's own heart were poured upon the surface from the deepest reaches beneath their feet, the miasma of power enveloped the figure upon the throne of slabbed stone: Erasing him and all he had once stood for.

From beneath the tower, men stared in wonder at the warmth. The justice of a war long fought and hard won, the many eyes sought wide to take in the brilliance of their victory. As if a second sun had come to rest upon the plane of mortal reach for only the briefest of instants, it blinded as it healed.

But atop the tower, as the eternal flames released their grasp upon the Eastern tower's surface a single doubt had been cast. The dragon stared at the shade which lingered there: No longer in blackened armor, no longer possessing a sword nor throne, but hanging upon the world nonetheless; a dark gaze watching him with indifference.

"If I could have ended my mortal toil upon this earth, know that I would have done so long, long ago." The shade spoke with quiet reverence to the fading glow of warmth that surrounded it. Beside the brilliant light of the portal aglow behind it, the figure hardly seemed more than smoke. "You have won this war, great one. Alas, I am not the victory you seek."

Behind him the portal faded, endless bounds of Chaos finally disrupted. The gateway between worlds fluctuated there, simmering to a boil of glass and mirror finish, realms and distant planes of existence skipping bey before the Dragon's eyes. Places that should not be, could not be, were and had once been: All of the universe and its secrets floated they beyond claw or hand, burning to a hiss of mana and madness.

"What terror has your master wrought upon this place?" The Great Dragon let the question flow out along the streams of fire still crisping atop his fangs, eyes held upon the flickering shade of the soul before him.

"If only I knew." The shade replied with a deep whisper of sorrow, rust slowly reforming on the swirls of dust and heat about his lingering person. "If only."