The Awakening of Ashmar

**Title: The Awakening of Ashmar**

**Subtitle: A World Reborn, A Dragon Forgotten**

Ashmar, the ancient dragon, stirred in the heart of the Forgotten Mountain. For a millennium, he had slept, his massive body curled around treasures gathered from a world that had feared and revered him. His scales, once gleaming emerald, had dulled with the passage of time, but the power within him still pulsed, waiting for the moment he would rise again.

As his eyes flickered open, the once-familiar sounds of the world were absent. He expected to hear the distant hum of human cities, the clamor of knights preparing for battle, or the whispers of terrified villagers. Instead, silence. The land around him had grown still, but not peaceful—more as if it had forgotten its own past.

Ashmar unfurled his wings, stretching his limbs as stone cracked and fell from his colossal form. His sharp talons scraped the cavern floor as he made his way toward the cave entrance, pushing past thick vines that had grown over it. When he emerged, he froze. The world beyond was unrecognizable.

The vast forests that had once covered the land were now sparse. The rivers he had flown over in ages past were dry or diverted, replaced by smooth black roads that shimmered under the sun, leading to towering structures made of strange materials. Some gleamed with glass and steel, while others, enormous and rusting, seemed abandoned by the very beings that had created them.

"Where are the kingdoms?" Ashmar rumbled, his voice shaking the earth beneath him.

He soared into the sky, scanning the horizon, but he could not find the castles or villages of old. In their place were sprawling cities, where strange vehicles sped along at unnatural speeds and people moved about oblivious to his presence. The sky was dotted with flying machines, none of which bore the majestic wings of dragons.

Humans had always been resourceful, Ashmar knew. He had seen them rise from simple huts to build cities of stone and wood. But this… this was something different. There were no armies, no great banners flying in the wind. Their weapons, sleek and compact, buzzed with unfamiliar energy.

As he flew over one of the great cities, he saw it—giant screens that flashed with moving images, announcing wars fought not by knights but by unseen forces in far-off lands. People walked about with devices in their hands, their eyes glued to tiny glowing screens. They seemed more connected to these objects than to each other.

Ashmar landed atop a building, his massive claws gripping its smooth surface. Below him, the people paid no heed, as if dragons were a mere myth to them now, forgotten like the old world itself.

He watched them, these small, strange creatures, now masters of a new realm. He could sense their power, but it was not the same. They had conquered the world with their machines and their technology, not with swords or magic. For the first time in a thousand years, Ashmar felt something new—a twinge of uncertainty.

This was no longer his world.

But Ashmar, the ageless dragon, had always adapted. As the winds of change swirled around him, he spread his wings once more. It was time to learn the ways of this new age—or remind it that dragons, too, could rise again.