Visualize a fire dragon, its once-glorious scales now dull and charred, flickering weakly with remnants of red and orange. It struggles on six frail scorpion legs, each claw cracked and brittle, unable to bear its weight. The tail, limp and lifeless, ends in a broken stinger, lacking any trace of venom. Its wings hang tattered, the flames that once danced now reduced to mere embers, casting a dim glow. The dragon’s eyes, once fierce, are clouded and hollow, betraying a sense of despair. When it opens its mouth, jagged teeth are visible, but they appear worn and useless, incapable of harm. The backdrop is a barren wasteland, the remnants of a once-thriving landscape now scorched and desolate, enveloped in a heavy silence, embodying the sorrow of a fallen titan
