O Dragon of Golden Flames, whose name the winds engrave, You, who tore through the Purple Veil and crossed the Seven Gates: When the Cursed Sea spat its mist of ruin, It was you who rose your wings where fear had taken root. Do you remember? On Draconia Isle, where waterfalls whispered secrets, Your steps uncovered blackened springs, flowers nurtured by the abyss. In the Cave of the Golden Library, you fought against ancient shadows, And in the Lands of Fire, where banners cried for loyalty, ...

Welcome, Drako, last of golden fire, Thy kin lost to the purple tide’s despair; Draconia weeps as cursed waters conspire, Claiming souls who to the deep do dare. Thou art summoned, as of old Elandor’s call, Through seven portals to thy destiny’s height; Be our hero, let thy valor enthrall, And restore our hope with thy radiant might. Follow the waterfalls where secrets reside, Unravel the curse with draconic pride. Behold, the cursed purple tide doth taint our land, And all us fish now ponder...