The Wyrm of Ruin — Tongue of Flame

Teeth are the script,
fire the ink.
The Codex speaks
through his burning tongue.

The Wyrm of Ruin was not born, but unearthed — a coil of scales and horn beneath the first mountain, waiting in silence until hunger called him forth. His maw opened, and what spilled was not flame but language — a searing tongue that carved words into stone and ash.
 
Where he passed, villages blackened into scripture, forests burned into verses. His fire does not consume alone; it records. Each ruin he leaves is a page, each scar of flame a sentence. The Codex binds him not as beast, but as pen — his jaws the quill, his breath the ink of ruin.
 
To look upon him is to see prophecy written in cinder. To hear his roar is to hear the turning of pages in fire. And when his tongue lashes, it does not lick — it writes. The Codex names him Tongue of Flame, the Wyrm of Ruin — the script of annihilation, the hymn of ash eternal.