One voice—ancient, divine—overpowered all the roars of soldiers and war beasts: Tiamat's.
"I've heard about you: the little lizard born far after Marduk sealed me, right? The dragon god of order, the magnificent divinity who deems chaos a plague to be rid of." A smirk stretched across her face as she leaned forward. "But we both know the truth. You were terrified—oh, so terrified to end up like me. Sorry to break it to you—it would have never happened."
The mockery in her voice faded, giving way to a soul-freezing chill. "You're weak, Bahamut, both in spirit and mind."
Bahamut's fingers twitched, guttural whispers clawing at his throat. "Lizard? Weak?" His colossal jaw parted, tower-sized fangs glinting and a deafening bellow reverberating through the city.
