The Unspoken Word

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In the Salt Pale, a vast ossuary where the skeletons of forgotten gods bleach under an unblinking sun, only two embers of an ancient power remained.

There was the Woman, who carried the memory of the world in the marrow of her bones, and the Dragon, who was power made manifest. They were not master and servant, but two halves of a primordial contract sealed in an age before men. She was the Anchor that bound him to reason; he was the Shield that turned back the endless void. They called her the Speaker, for her thoughts were the only language the Last One understood.

For centuries, they had kept their silent vigil. Until today.

Her distant gaze was not empty; it was a silent answer to the audacity of a trespasser, a soul who dared disturb their desolation. The faint, knowing smirk that touched her lips was not for her companion—it was a final, unspoken warning to the one who watched.

As her head turned, the unspoken word flowed between them, a command crossing the silent expanse. A question. An agreement. A promise.

And in reply, the very firmament shuddered. It was not a mere step. It was an answer forged in fire and stone, a declaration that the pact was invoked. A primordial force, dormant beneath the crust of sand and time, had just awakened.

The age of silence had expired. The age of thunder had begun.