Game of Thrones: The Red Dragon Lord

As the altitude dropped further, the Isle of the Gods grew clearer below. From the vantage of the skies, the bustling crowds attending the Moon Song Festival seemed unaware of the doom racing toward them. But soon enough, their joyous songs and laughter turned into screams as they spotted the giant dragon descending upon them.

Terror spread like wildfire. Some collapsed to the ground, trembling in fear. Others fled in a blind panic, while a few stood frozen, staring at the sky with blank faces etched in despair.

High above, Gavin's piercing eyes locked onto the Black and White Courtyard, and a murderous glint flashed in his gaze. He leaned forward and tugged lightly on the reins.

"Syndor, there. Bring them ruin."

The dragon rumbled in response, its massive wings folding tightly as it dove toward the courtyard with the swiftness of lightning, scales gleaming like molten fire.

Syndor streaked downward, a blazing shadow against the moonlit sky. As the dark gray stone temple loomed closer, the dragon hovered for a moment, its enormous chest heaving. Then, with an earth-shaking roar, Syndor unleashed a torrent of searing flames.

The dragonfire struck the Black and White Courtyard's pointed black-tiled roof like the wrath of the gods themselves. The intense heat turned the tiles red-hot in an instant, and the ferocious impact shattered them into fiery fragments. The flames surged into the temple through the breached roof, cascading like a relentless flood.

Inside, the thirty statues lining the walls stood tall and solemn, once guardians of mystery and reverence. Now, under the merciless blaze, they took on grotesque, almost menacing forms. Flames licked their surfaces, consuming the cloth adornments draped around them. One by one, the sacred effigies were devoured, leaving only twisted, smoldering remnants behind.

In the center of the chamber, a ten-foot-diameter pool that symbolized purity began to boil violently. Steam billowed upward as the sacred water evaporated into nothingness. The temple, once a haven of quiet sanctity, had transformed into a purgatory of flames and thick, choking smoke.

The inferno poured through the winding corridors, reaching the monks' dormitories. Beds, clothes, and furnishings were consumed in moments. Monks ran in every direction, their desperate shouts mingling with the crackling of the fire.

"Help! Someone help us!" one cried, before flames engulfed him.

Others tried to smother the fire with blankets, but their efforts were futile. Their bodies were seared as the flames closed in, leaving them writhing and screaming in agony before collapsing into silence.

The fire did not stop there. It surged deeper into the temple, invading the caves carved into its foundations. Artifacts, scrolls, and treasures hidden within the stone walls were reduced to ash in seconds. Those hiding in the caves struggled to retreat further into the darkness, clawing for a sanctuary that no longer existed. The relentless heat and smoke followed them, suffocating and incinerating any hope of escape.

High above, Gavin watched the destruction unfold from Syndor's back. His face was stoic, but his eyes burned with cold fury.

"This is justice for daring to challenge me," he muttered under his breath, his voice devoid of pity.

Syndor roared again, his massive form circling the courtyard. Gavin's sharp gaze caught movement below—the intricately carved wooden doors of the temple creaked open slightly.

"The doors, Syndor. Leave no escape."

The dragon swooped down, landing with a deafening crash that shook the ground. Syndor reared back, unleashing another wave of flames directly at the wooden doors.

Under the dragon's relentless assault, the ornate carvings blackened and splintered. Flames spread like hungry beasts, devouring the wood until nothing remained but a pile of glowing embers. The acolytes who had attempted to open the doors were caught in the inferno, their screams cut short as the fire consumed them.

Inside the temple, the flames surged forward, devouring every corridor and chamber. Walls cracked and crumbled under the relentless heat. Statues toppled, their shattered remains lost in the blaze. Even the stone floor began to glow red-hot, splitting and groaning as if the earth itself was lamenting the devastation.

On the Isle of the Gods, the horror was palpable. The crowd, who had watched the destruction in stunned silence, erupted into chaos.

"Run! Run for your lives!" someone screamed, triggering a stampede.

Fear spread like a plague. Parents clutched their children tightly, their faces streaked with tears. Soldiers tried to maintain order.

"This way! Keep moving in an orderly line!" one barked, his voice barely audible over the din.

But their efforts were drowned in the tide of panic. Merchants abandoned their stalls, leaving goods scattered across the streets. Some fell and were trampled underfoot as the crowd surged toward the docks, desperate to escape by sea.

At the temple, Syndor continued his fiery assault. The Black and White Courtyard, once a bastion of mystery and reverence, was reduced to a crumbling shell. Smoke poured from its remains, blotting out the stars and darkening the sky. Stones fell from the walls, landing with resounding crashes. The creaking of stone beams signaled their imminent collapse.

With a final roar, Syndor flapped his mighty wings and took to the skies, the force of his ascent scattering embers and ash. Gavin, seated firmly on the dragon's back, spared one last glance at the burning ruins below.

"Let this be a lesson. Let this be their warning," he said coldly.

The people of the Isle of the Gods could only watch in stunned silence as the dragon and its rider disappeared into the night, leaving behind a trail of destruction that would haunt their memories for years to come.