"You know not what you speak of, human."
The draconic sage nearly spat the words, his golden eyes staring solemnly--vengefully--at the lifeless form of the human who lay dead at his feet; cloak and garb wet with blackened blood, the very essence of the self-proclaimed Goddess herself which continued to leak from the being's every orifice.
Many more littered the surrounding streets of the kingdom capital, carriers of the blackened essence that threatened their world as a whole; all the same in the end, their tainted visage made them easy to distinguish from the pure.
From men, to women, to even children--none were spared the fate that would befall them should they be consumed.
A series of hoarse, labored breaths poured from his maw as he fought the urge to fall to his knees, the tears that would have poured from his eyes nowhere to be found; whether it be a result of them having long ceased to be as a result of the wounds he'd long endured or from the utter despair at the cruelty inflicted upon his kin, he would never know.
He had no time to grieve.
No time to rest.
No time to even reminiscence.
He had no time at all.
The dark blade of the dagger that had been lodged into his shoulder also lay at his feet beside its wielder, his crimson lifeblood staining it's blade whilst more continued to leak from the wound it had inflicted to taint his silver scales and the brilliant silk robe of white and gold that adorned him; another stain to sully his pride, a wound to join many more in marking his once pristine scales as punishment for his failure.
Unwilling to gaze at the tainted streets of a once peaceful human settlement, he averted his eyes to the sky above; the sea of stars and black blanket of night all but gone, shrouded in a torrent of ash and crimson that would herald time's end.
He could not linger much longer.
The approaching sound of booted footsteps attracted his forlorn gaze to the archway serving as the great plaza's entrance, his claws near instantly at the ready as they began to shimmer and lengthen with light, his wings flaring out and tail whipping behind him as he took on a shaky, almost protective stance; the figure that grew into view recoiling.
Though not from his light.
"I-Isaiah…?!"
The voice that resounded carried both fear and worry in its tone--the voice belonging to none other than the arbiter herself; the white and gold robes adoring her frame free of blood and tears, so unlike his own.
His stance softened, his maw parted and eyes narrowed to daggers, less of shock and more of anger.
"W-Why… why are you--?!"
Not even granted the reprieve of finishing his question, the dragon's plated chest seized and caused him to stagger onto his knees; golden claws on both hands and feet digging into the stonework of the plaza.
She cautiously drew near him, her hands raised and already shimmering with the light that would mend his wounds; sparing neither glance nor prayer to the corpses that littered her surroundings.
"You must rest."
Her words soothed him, the warm touch of her skin against his cold bloodstained scales inviting--reinvigorating--as the light flooded into him.
"N-No," he snarled, pulling himself free of her touch almost forcefully; his voice raw, primal, and unbefitting of a dragon of his nature, "I-I cannot… I cannot afford to. To rest would be to doom you--to doom all."
Digging his clawed digits into the ground for added support as he rose to his feet, he could not withhold the growls which escaped his clenched maw.
The woman's face softened, and she simply shook her head, her hands lowering to her sides as she retreated a few steps to allow the chromatic dragon to fully stand.
"Oh, but Isaiah…" She whispered, her serene voice never wavering as her head lifted to meet his golden eyes, her hand rising.
It was then that he felt it--felt pain in his shoulder, a pain which pierced through his hardened hide of scales and soft robe alike; crimson bubbling from the wound where the dagger the woman had been holding had impacted.
Yet she did not share his fate--she would not live.
Black blood leaked from the corners of her mouth, her lips curled into an almost mocking smile; mocking for how slow he had truly been. How delirious he had truly become to believe a mere Corrupted could be an ally.
His axe-like tail tore itself free from the woman's abdomen, allowing her body to collapse into a broken heap at his feet, the robes adorning her frame stained with the same black evil as the rest.
He felt no stronger than before as he wretched the wyrmslayer free of his scales and allowed it to fall from his claws; the blade clattering worthlessly against the cobble underfoot aside its wielder.
"You believe yourself worthy?"
His gaze lingered on the woman's lifeless face as she spoke without struggle, her eyes without light and full of contempt.
"You believe yourself capable of stopping what cannot be stopped?"
"What I am to you, is of no concern to me." He hissed, eyes foggy with rage.
"Arrogant. Without care. As all your kind."
"You know not what you speak of, human."
The dragon knew, however, that the woman had ceased speaking long ago.