Your dragons are mortal, they have a death, a dying in them. They breed and grow. Ours are the children of time itself who awoke from the burial mounds, who once held humanity in service to them until a gift that was theirs was taught to be their undoing. If you can slay a dragon same as an overgrown beast why are yours alive? They were all dead. All gone. Legends. I watched the life given back to one by their leader as he spoke in a voice that could set sky aflame.

Time is split in three, the dragon devours his own tail, and an arrow might be the hand striking the hour of his death upon the clock.