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As Geronimo tore the warlock's head from his shoulders, the sinister shadow in the sky finally broke into a satisfied smile.
A whelp might be young, but it still possessed the courage of dragonkind.
The moment Geronimo abandoned one of his wings and staked everything on a desperate charge, the Dragon Queen was certain that this little dragon was worth cultivating.
Abraham Torres's soul was crushed beneath the goddess's will, shattered into countless crimson motes that poured into Geronimo's body. His memories, emotions, and experiences all fused into the half-dragon youth. A warlock standing one step from legend had become nothing more than Geronimo's nourishment.
At the same time, every remaining scrap of flesh across the plaza melted away, converging into a blood-red vortex that surged into Geronimo's body.
His form mutated yet again. What had once been human features crowned by a pair of horns had now been reshaped entirely into a draconic head. He grew taller, his body larger, and his severed wing even...
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