Ember Draco Flame struck a chord on their lute, and all three heads grinned with sharp teeth. The central head hummed the melody while the left one spat lyrics like venom and the right one rolled words that clicked and clattered. They had one goal: to perform the revenge ballad that would destroy the thief who stole their greatest work. For weeks, the three heads had argued about tempo, about tone, about which verse cut deepest. But now the song was ready. Ember's flames burned brighter, casting shadows across the sand. Soon, everyone would hear what happened to those who betrayed an artist. The performance needed a stage, somewhere bold enough to match the message. Ember spotted an old pickup truck dumped by the roadside, its paint peeling and metal dented. Perfect. They climbed onto the truck bed, claws scraping against rust. The central head sparked a flame that traced the edges of the vehicle, turning decay into decoration. The left head sneered at the makeshift platform while the right head declared it "brilliantly battered, a backdrop befitting betrayal's ballad." Ember planted their feet wide and raised the lute high. The first notes rang out across the empty road. Passersby stopped and stared at the three-headed dragon performer standing on a flaming pickup truck. The central head carried the melody smooth and clear. The left head spat verses that cut like knives, naming no names but painting the picture of a thief who stole art and claimed it as their own. The right head rolled alliteration that snapped and popped with each phrase. Fire danced around Ember's shoulders, rising with each chorus. This was just the beginning. Word would spread, and soon the betrayer would hear every burning word. Ember leaped down from the truck, tail lashing with purpose. The crowd had clapped and whistled, but this roadside stage was too small. The revenge ballad needed a bigger audience, a place where the betrayer couldn't ignore it. The left head snarled about weak venues while the right head muttered about "pathetic platforms for powerful performances." The central head stayed focused. They needed the castle. The one with flame crystals that lit up its towers like beacons. Everyone important gathered there. Everyone who mattered would witness the performance that destroyed a reputation. Ember traded the lute for something heavier. They found a guitar crafted from lava rock, its surface still warm to the touch. The instrument felt right in their claws, dangerous and loud. The left head approved with a hiss. The right head called it "ruthlessly raw, radiating righteous rage." The central head strummed once, and the sound cracked through the air. This was the weapon they needed. With this guitar and that castle stage, the revenge ballad would burn through every ear. The betrayer would hear it. Everyone would know what they'd done. Ember's three heads smiled in rare agreement as flames flickered across their shoulders.