Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Darkus first glanced at the southwest of Lorthorn, towards the end of the vast ocean city defenses.

There, an unequal chase was taking place in the sky.

Freed from the burden of dragging the Skybreaker, the giant eagles and war falcons, led by Elahir, the "bloodline of Tarion," swarmed around the Sun Dragon, which was trying to escape the battlefield, like a swarm of bees or a long-awaited aerial whirlwind.

As Ashdalon's blood-soaked head slowly turned towards the last remaining Sun Dragon, the dragon utterly collapsed. Ashdalon coldly watched the fleeing figure shrink, his eyes devoid of anger or pity. (Chapter 881)
He did not pursue them.

Besides the fact that the escaped Sun Dragon no longer posed a threat, the main reason was that he had a mission.

However, his inaction does not mean that other hunters will stand idly by.

The giant eagles and war falcons swooped down on the fleeing Sun Dragon that was struggling desperately.

Seeing that these aerial units were in position, the crossbows that were originally poised to fire on the city wall froze instantly. The cold glint of the drawn bowstrings, the taut crossbow strings, and the giant arrows that were about to pierce the sky all stopped as if a frozen command had been pressed, just to make way for this aerial dance of death.

This is a pre-established plan.

Unless the dragon begins to swoop down on the city's defenses and attack the walls, it will never interfere with our aerial hunt.

The giant eagle's tactics are clear and efficient: never engage in direct confrontation, only harass and obstruct.

They moved silently through the air, constantly cutting off the Sun Dragon's pitiful escape route, making each flap of its wings more frantic and unsteady.

Elahir, in an extremely humiliating and provocative manner, narrowly missed the nose of the Sun Dragon.

The Sun Dragon's reason had long been crushed by the tragic deaths of his companions and Ashdaron's gaze; now, only the instinct to flee remained. He had no intention of biting, but Elathir appeared once again from the shadows like a ghost, driving him almost reflexively into a frenzy.

Roar!
The pent-up fear and rage transformed into a scorching torrent of destruction. A blinding dragon breath, like lava bursting its banks, surged from the depths of his chest with uncontrollable fury, rushing straight toward Elahir, who was right in front of him!
However, at the very moment the dragon's breath erupted, Elahir seemed to have foreseen it. Instead of trying to create distance, it made a more thrilling and elegant response.

The giant eagle's wings folded and unfolded with exquisite precision in an instant, its feathers swirling in a golden, flowing line in mid-air. Its massive body, propelled by the shockwaves from its breath, completed a near-vertical lateral roll, like a leaf fluttering lightly at the edge of a fiery storm.

The deadly breath grazed the downy feathers on its belly, the intense heat even vaporizing a few fallen golden feathers instantly. The silvery feathers turned into steam and dissipated in the scorching heat, but it did not harm the creature in the slightest.

This exquisitely elegant evasion was not merely for show. It successfully drew the attention of the Radiant Dragon, and indeed its entire head and neck, firmly fixing them in one direction.

The next scene, therefore, is destined to be torn further apart into despair.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, the two giant eagles, like shadows that had been poised to strike, suddenly slashed in from the sides and rear! Their powerful talons viciously dug at the base of the Sun Dragon's neck, which was completely exposed and lacked the protection of thick scales due to its head turning and spitting.

Claws tore through flesh, and dragon blood splattered in the air. The crimson blood was torn into a thin arc in the sunlight, and the hot blood even turned into a wisp of steam with a fishy smell in mid-air.

Almost simultaneously, four other giant eagles, as if executing precise commands, launched a coordinated attack from different angles. Their swooping shadows flashed across the Fiery Dragon's body, and their sharp claws and teeth precisely attacked the key to supporting the dragon's flight—the wing root joints on both sides!

The moment the giant eagles swooped down, a short, sharp whistling sound tore through the air, as if they had cleaved the sky in two.

The Fiery Sun Dragon let out a painful roar, its throat filled with despair and despair. Its massive body trembled violently from the wound to its vital organs, and its wings trembled erratically in the air, halting its escape and even causing it to tilt at a dangerous angle.

After watching for a moment, Dakota shook his head.

It's over, the power's off, it's shut down.

Time was running out for this Fiery Dragon, and he didn't think it could do anything next.

This Fiery Dragon is like a lone aerial fortress, while the flight formation composed of falcons is like a well-equipped and well-organized fighter squadron.

Worse still, the crew members responsible for controlling the defensive firepower were killed in action; in any case, he didn't see the dragon prince or dragon mage on the dragon's back retaliate. Did the dragon prince forget his bow? Or was he already killed by the warriors or spellcasters on the falcon's back?

How to do this?
This is a doomed situation.

Unless the Fiery Dragon launches a breakout at the moment the flight formation dives in, it might be able to escape if it avoids long-range ground fire.

But now... the chance for survival has been lost.

He then looked in the direction of "Terrifying" Malatex and his clan mother. Apart from the mist, Malatex, and the positioned raiding ships, he didn't see a single fire dragon. The white mist rising from the sea was like a giant mouth, devouring the dragon shadows that had lost altitude or fallen due to injury.

He shook his head again.

These fire dragons that launched their dive were either shot down by Maratex or rushed into the mist wounded, their fate already sealed. The seafood feast would not let go of any enemy who had entered the mist; no one would spit out the experience and merits that had already been taken into their mouths.

On the other side, the dark golden dragon Legnius is carrying the unconscious Imrek and the exhausted Lyandra in a life-or-death struggle for survival.

After Leander relentlessly unleashed her Wings of Fire twice, Legnius's speed surged twice, his massive dragon body leaving afterimages in the air as he pierced through the storm like lightning.

At that moment, he was no longer a dragon, but a golden meteor trailing a fiery tail, which widened the distance between him and the deadly couple behind him.

But there was a price to pay for this. His chest heaved violently, and each flap of his dragon wings seemed to be forcibly squeezing out the last bit of strength. Tiny streaks of blood even seeped from between his metallic scales.

The pair of dark and crimson death creatures, though still roaring defiantly and flapping their wings with all their might, could no longer overcome the disadvantage of distance. Their figures gradually shrank and blurred behind Legnius.

Clearly, this couple is not going to catch up for the time being.

However, the crisis is not over!

We are still a long way from true safety.

A blue lightning bolt streaked through the air, relentlessly pursuing him; it was none other than the 'Sapphire Eye' Ibas, renowned for his speed!

Crackling arcs of electricity crackled around her, like scarlet serpents relentlessly biting at her body, pushing the Storm Dragon's speed to its limit. Her entire dragon seemed encased in a magnificent shell forged from lightning, exuding a suffocating sense of oppression, like a javelin hurled by Matheran, relentlessly biting Legnius's back.

"Roar!"

Ibas let out a sharp dragon roar, the sound like a blade slicing through the air. Blue and white lightning gathered wildly in his throat, shining as if it were about to burst out from the gaps in his dragon neck bones. Then he suddenly spewed out a blazing and twisted lightning breath!

This breath was not a direct shot, but rather like a living, lightning-infused serpent, winding and swiftly moving through the air, crackling and vibrating with each turn, locking onto Legnius's flight path, attempting to paralyze, tear him apart, and dismantle him.

Faced with this deadly pursuit, Legnius displayed the experience and composure expected of a veteran. Just as the lightning breath was about to touch his tail, his massive body suddenly executed a seemingly clumsy but incredibly precise irregular spiral descent to the left!
His dragon wings trembled heavily in the wind, and the air was torn in a roaring trajectory by the force of his rapid turn, as if even the sky was bending because of his maneuver.

A violent burst of lightning grazed the edge of his right wing membrane, ionizing the air and causing the scales there to tingle and turn black, some even curling and cracking, but it narrowly avoided a fatal blow! The dissipating arcs of electricity exploded in the air like deadly fireworks, illuminating the area with a blinding brilliance.

He dared not linger in the fight, much less turn back to retaliate.

His only goal was to rush to the northwest, the only path to survival, as quickly as possible.

Every breath aggravated the wound on his back, and every flap of his wings consumed his remaining strength. It felt so heavy that it seemed to drag him toward the ground, but he still struggled forward, pressing down on Ibas's angry roar and the thunder that followed.

However, Ibas did not give up his plan to hunt down Legnius.

The two failed attempts to exhale did not discourage her; instead, they completely ignited the ferocity and stubbornness within her bloodline.

She let out a sharp dragon roar, a mixture of anger and anxiety, with a trembling sound like shattering metal. The lightning surrounding her grew increasingly violent, arcs of electricity forming a net, ionizing and igniting the surrounding air.

The third breath!
The hissing sound when the electric snake shot out this time was almost as if Matheran himself was there.

At the critical moment, Legnius suddenly folded one of his dragon wings, completing a near-perfect barrel roll maneuver, with the blazing white lightning clashing just short of his rolling body.

The deadly lightning grazed the outer edge of his chest scales, bursting into a dazzling shower of sparks, mixed with the smell of burnt metal.

She's going crazy!
But she didn't go completely insane; her learning and adaptability were astonishing. She no longer pursued extreme energy output, but instead began to anticipate Legnius's avoidance patterns.

Her flight path began to subtly adjust, each flap of her dragon wings producing a precise, chillingly small vibration, like the final stage of a falcon locking onto its prey.

Calm, focused, and deadly.

The fourth attack came silently.

This time, Ibas didn't rush to spit. With her superior speed, she cleverly seized a near-perfect attack position. She was positioned to the side and above Legnius, an angle that not only blocked several of Legnius's most common evasion routes but also placed herself in the opponent's blind spot.

Her jewel-like, icy dragon eyes narrowed slightly, and the electric light deep within her pupils flowed like a tide, pressing down on the thin air around her and causing it to emit a low rumble.

The electric light in her throat was no longer dazzling; instead, it was restrained and compressed, as if countless lightning bolts were forcibly stuffed into a narrow bottle, and each energy vibration made her neck bones tremble slightly.

This foreshadows the next breath, a precisely calculated, unavoidable, deadly strike—a silence so profound it chills even the air itself.

Just as Ibas was about to unleash the destructive lightning bolt that was destined to be unavoidable, Leandera, who had been lying on Legnius's back and whose life force was already as weak as a candle in the wind, seemed to sense this final killing intent.

She squeezed out a sliver of power from who knows where, a power that did not originate from her body, but rather seemed to be the final brilliance obtained by burning her soul!

Wings of Fire!
This is very likely the last time she will ever cast a spell.

The dim flames once again enveloped Legnius's massive body, but this time, the flames were no longer stable; their edges flickered and sputtered uncontrollably, as if they might shatter into pieces at any moment. Yet, the instantaneous thrust they generated remained ferocious—a final roar of life, a desperate sprint like drawing a sword and severing one's own arm.

boom!
At the very instant that Ibas's lightning breath burst forth, Legnius's figure, propelled by the flames, suddenly shot forward a great distance in a manner that completely defied physical inertia and was almost like a spatial jump!

The air was torn into a deep burn mark, and the flames left long afterimages, as if they had forcibly cleaved the sky in two.

That meticulously calculated, determined breath of lightning struck in vain once again in the airspace where Legnius had just been standing, blasting the air into a brief, crackling bubble of lightning.

The electric waves surged, and lightning shattered like broken jade, raging with nowhere to vent its fury.

The fourth dragon breath attack failed again!

As for Leandera, who had forcibly cast the spell, she collapsed completely the moment the spell was completed, as if all her bones had been removed. Blood kept spilling from the corners of her mouth, dripping down her jawline, and being torn into fine blood mist by the howling wind.

It is clear that an unimaginable price has been paid.

But her decisiveness bought Legnius a precious respite, turning Ibasa's sure-fire strike into a fuming, unsuccessful attack once again.

Darkus laughed upon seeing this scene—a speechless laugh, a laugh born of exasperation, a laugh born of being amused.

Although this dragon was an enemy, its reaction was undeniably perfect and serves as a valuable lesson. Perhaps... Ibas will become a background character in this battle?
The smile began to twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if struck by a sudden absurdity and unexpectedness, and finally bloomed uncontrollably.

While the fierce battle raged above Lorthene, a startling change occurred in the Great Vortex, the ancient creation that maintained the magical balance of the world, in the center of the Inner Sea of ​​Ulthuan.

The once relatively calm and deep center of the eddy now emitted a deep, rumbling roar, like millions of muffled thunderclaps, as if a long sigh came from the depths of the ocean. The sea surface transformed into a gigantic, raging funnel, the water stretched, twisted, and torn apart, like a piece of cloth being roughly kneaded by an invisible force, emitting a heart-stopping hiss.

The entire ocean trembled violently, as if a giant spirit had been suddenly awakened, like a gluttonous beast that had been forcibly awakened from its slumber, opening its massive maw to devour everything.

The vortex spun at an unimaginable speed, far beyond the comprehension of ordinary people. The walls of waves rising from its edges reached hundreds of meters high, soaring straight into the sky, only to be instantly torn apart and dragged into the abyss by an indescribable force. Even the fragments of those giant waves, the moment they formed, were cut into countless tiny, misty streams of water, like glass shattered by extreme pressure, disappearing in the blink of an eye within the vortex's breath.

In the sky, the eight-colored magical winds, which had been restrained and controlled, were now like wild horses broken free of their reins, forcibly pulled into the center of the vortex with unprecedented ferocity. They intertwined, collided, and annihilated, forming a constantly exploding aurora storm above the vortex, dazzling yet deadly. Each flash of color was accompanied by a high-frequency rumble, as if the sky were being sharply torn apart, and fragments of magic scattered and fell, turning into scorching fire rain that sprinkled onto the inner sea.

This scene is definitely not the normal operation of a giant whirlpool.

The whirlpool was overloaded! It was as if a precisely regulated water pump had suddenly been connected to a burst dam, forced to operate at power exceeding its design limits, frantically trying to swallow, digest, and expel the unimaginable energy into nothingness. The entire sea groaned and trembled under this abnormal, frenzied load, with undercurrents surging like angry snakes, and even the rock strata deep in the seabed emitting dull, cracking vibrations.

The destructive energy unleashed in the final battle against Lorthorn, and the magical winds it stirred up, were simply too surging and too concentrated.

These immeasurable energies, like rivers flowing into the sea, ultimately converge on the world's regulators.

The vortex, in a near-self-destructive manner, is desperately absorbing the magical aftershocks of this battle, which are enough to overturn the balance. Its wails and roars are the most direct and grand proof of the ferocity of the Battle of Lor'then.

As the aurora storm sweeping across the sky spread wildly at an illogical speed, turning the sky above the inland sea into a strange and violent band of color, Darkus, who had maintained a detached demeanor, suddenly had his pupils slightly contract.

"Ok?"

For the first time, a sudden change in expression appeared on his usually calm and composed face.

Given the intense magical resistance from Lorthorn, triggering an overload on the vortex was a possibility, but when the devastating scene was truly before his eyes, his heart still skipped a beat.

Almost instinctively, his left hand reached for the horn hanging at his waist, the icy touch sending a shiver down his spine. His gaze, sharp as a blade, ignored the countless raiding ships already positioned in the sky, carrying elite soldiers. His eyes were fixed on the intricate cityscape of Lorthen.

He was searching for the worst-case scenario: the opening of a massive chaotic rift.

His gaze swept rapidly across the crumbling streets and collapsed towers... one breath, two breaths...

No!

The worst-case scenario has not yet occurred.

Although the vortex was overloaded, at least for now, it was still fulfilling its duty, desperately absorbing the energy that was enough to tear reality apart. The abyssal suction and groans, though feeling like standing on the edge of an abyss, also meant that the world's barrier was still barely holding on.

Without the slightest hesitation, he raised the horn to his lips, his chest heaving.

Woo-woo-woo-woo~~~~
Three short, sharp, alarm-like notes, followed by a long, undeniable tone, suddenly pierced the noisy sky of Lorthorn!
The shockwave from the horn was like a boulder thrown into the air, spreading out in layers, passing through the smoke and fire, through the falling ashes, and through the turbulent energy ripples, echoing throughout the entire battlefield.

This bugle call was completely different from the attack horns he had sounded before. It was no longer impassioned, but filled with alertness, restraint, and the decisiveness to switch to emergency plans!

He was using this bugle call to convey the clearest instructions to all commanders and to every unit that heard it.

Emergency response plan, activated immediately!

However, the long, drawn-out horn note he blew was completely drowned out by another, more violent roar from the sky.

On the dragon's back, with trembling hands, Leander untied the straps that bound her to the dragon throne. She was so weak that even raising her arms trembled. She didn't even have the strength to properly place Imrek's body on the dragon throne.

She could only lie helplessly on Legnius's undulating back, the vibrations from the flapping of his dragon wings making her sway like a withered leaf battered by a storm. With her last ounce of strength, she fastened the safety hook tightly to Imrek's belt, as if it were the only and last thing she could do for him.

This simple action nearly cost her her life.

Another mouthful of scalding blood uncontrollably gushed from the corner of her mouth, flowing down her chin and being torn into dark red arcs by the gale. She had no intention of even wiping it away; she struggled to turn her neck, her gaze sweeping left and right, sweeping across the desolate air around her.

To Legnius's left front, several equally disheveled figures were trying to approach. Flames left shimmering trails in the broken air currents; these were fire dragons that had desperately broken through from the direction of the islands after hearing the retreat order from the Dragon Horn. Their scales were tattered, their wing membranes scorched, and some dragons bore wounds, yet they still flapped their wings frantically, moving towards the only path to survival.

Legnius fought his way out from the center of the lagoon, and the two trails in the air formed a sharp and hopeful angle of nearly 30 degrees, eager to merge into a stronger force.

That angle seemed to foreshadow an unbroken thread of life; if they could converge, perhaps they could tear open this sky of despair.

Her gaze followed the fire dragons, silently counting them in her mind, as if she were counting the dying flames of a candle.

One, two... twelve, fifteen.

Then, the number began to decrease relentlessly.

Thirteen, eleven, ten, nine...

The sky is no longer a battlefield where dragons dance alone.

The ferocious figure of the red dragon, various flying creatures, the Durucci raiding ships swarming like locusts, and an unknown entity with a bizarre shape and an ominous aura, together weave a web of death, constantly and efficiently reducing the number of fire dragons.

The flames of the explosion, the agonizing screams, and the falling debris intertwined, repeatedly shattering the already fragile escape route.

Behind Legnius, the storm dragon remained a constant companion.

She seemed to have fallen into some kind of paranoid madness. Although she could have used more effective spells, she insisted on using dragon breath, intending to shoot Legnius down from the sky in the purest, most primitive, and most humiliating way.

She was readjusting her angle, lightning gathering and compressing deep within her throat, brewing a fifth destructive breath.

Perched atop the dragon's back, Leander's view was confined to the air, unable to see below. But she knew perfectly well that beneath the ground, countless cold ballistae were pointed skyward, awaiting any live target that entered their firing range.

This is inevitable.

Since Duluth was able to lay such a tight net in Lorthorn, how could he have forgotten to block the escape route?
However, all of this was no longer relevant to her.

That's the second hurdle to overcome.

She wouldn't make it to the second stage.

Right now, this is the first hurdle we must overcome.

How can the remaining fire dragons break through the encirclement of Ibas and the aerial hunters?

If she doesn't do something now, they won't even be able to get past this first hurdle.

These dragons, who had fought bloody battles and finally saw a glimmer of hope, along with the unconscious Imrek on her back, would all turn to dust on this final journey.

She closed her eyes and pressed her palms tightly against Legnius's back scales. With the most direct and pure thoughts from the depths of her soul, she conveyed a picture and a resolute request to this ancient and loyal companion.

As the image unfolded in Legnius's mind, his war-weary dragon eyes widened uncontrollably, the pupils shrinking to pinpoints, filled with unbelievable horror and grief.

He abruptly turned his head, his massive, heavy cervical vertebrae cracking slightly, as he looked at the dying dragon mage on his back, seeking a final confirmation.

Meeting his gaze, Leander, with her last ounce of strength, nodded firmly and slowly. In her eyes, there was no fear, no hesitation, only a calm that had burned out completely, and an unquestionable entrustment.

Legnius let out a low, mournful cry, like muffled thunder, the sound trembling in the turbulent currents, much like a choked sob tearing at the soul.

The enormous head nodded heavily.

He understood and accepted it.

The next moment, he suddenly spread his wings, no longer insisting on fleeing in a straight line, but instead drawing a sharp arc, forcibly bending his body into a sideways arc in the gale, his huge wingspan creating large ripples in the air.

He took the initiative to meet the fire dragons that were fleeing from the flanks, and joined them to form a more concentrated torrent of escape.

Adjusting his direction and heading towards the Northwest Port, Legnius began to slowly and steadily gain altitude. Each ascent was accompanied by tearing pain in his muscles, creaking sounds from his bones, and intense throbbing pain from his wounds.

But he persisted in pushing the price up because he knew...

Height comes at a price;
Sacrifice is the key to breakthrough;
Only a breakthrough can offer a glimmer of hope for survival.

By doing so, he became an even more conspicuous target. In a sky filled with murderous intent, he was like a flame forcibly stretched and pointed at fate.

Two thick crossbow bolts from the already positioned Truch raiding ship whistled through the air and struck his back hard, as if two giant hammers had smashed into the depths of his flesh.

Dragon scales shattered instantly, fragments scattering like sparks whipped up by the wind. Blood gushed out from the force of the impact, leaving streaks of crimson. The excruciating pain tore at his nerves like scorching iron hooks, but Legnius did not roar in agony. His battle-worn jaws clenched tightly, and a suppressed rage surged from deep within his throat.

He abruptly turned his head, the joints of his neck cracking with a clear, almost terrifying sound as they were forced to rotate. Then, a blazing dragon's breath, like a flame of vengeance, was released completely from the bottom of his throat.

The dragon's breath wasn't spewed randomly; it precisely tore through the air, retaliating along the angle from which the crossbow bolts came, engulfing the entire raiding ship that was unable to dodge and was still in firing position. Blazing flames instantly spread across the ship's surface, wooden beams shattered, metal warped, and the fury wiped it off the face of the earth in a flash.

While retaliating, he continued to subtly adjust his flight attitude and altitude, each vibration of his wing membrane carrying an almost imperceptible yet extremely precise angular correction. He had to maintain speed, evade more attacks, and keep Leandera and Imrek steady. Every movement was like maintaining balance on a knife's edge.

At this moment, only eight fire dragons remained that had broken through the island group.

When Legnius finally flew to the very back of the group, directly above the battered and near-limitless fire dragon, he made the move that had appeared in his mind earlier. His massive body suddenly and decisively veered to one side, his giant wings stirring up a fierce turbulence in the air, as if he were cutting through a storm with his own flesh.

Leandera, who no longer had the strength to stand, slid down lightly as the dragon's back tilted. The movement was so slow it was as if time had been stretched out; her hair fluttered gently, and her robes billowed in the wind.

She did not fall, but seemed to be lifted up by an invisible force, briefly suspending in the air, right beside Legnius, between the eight fire dragons desperately fleeing and the relentless storm of death chasing behind.

To become a human-shaped barrier, a tiny yet blazing spark.

She took one last look at the unconscious figure on Legnius's back, and at the figures struggling forward. A hint of relief and prayer flashed in her eyes—the tranquility after letting go of everything, the final tenderness before reaching the end.

Then, she opened her arms as if to embrace the sky that had given her endless pain and responsibility, and also as if to embrace the choices and costs of her life.

"In the name of Caledo...in all that remains of me..."

She whispered a farewell, not a spell, but a final vow offered to this moment and to the future.

The next second, the energy within her body, which was already on the verge of collapse and had been forcibly suppressed, as well as the last spark of life in her soul, were ignited by her without hesitation and completely!

boom! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

There was no firelight, yet it burst forth with a pure white radiance more dazzling than the sun!

The light seemed to pierce through the clouds and penetrate the sky, illuminating all the lives that were chasing, fleeing, and struggling.

An indescribable, destructive energy shockwave, a mixture of her life's cultivation, life essence, and indomitable will, swept wildly in all directions from her body as its core, like a supernova explosion!

Space twisted and vibrated under this force, as if it were being forcibly bent by someone's hands! The air shattered, the earth shook, and the sky looked as if it had been torn open with a violent wound.

Ibas, who was close behind, was the first to be hit, violently thrown away by the sudden explosion, which was purely designed to impede her progress. Even with her strength, she could not resist the impact that burned her soul. She let out an angry and unwilling roar, her huge body spinning in the air, forced to abandon her pursuit.

The red dragons, flying creatures, and raiding ships further back and above also crashed into an invisible wall of destructive power. Ships were damaged, flying creatures tumbled and fell, and the red dragons were forced to change direction, their formation instantly thrown into chaos as they had to avoid the suicidal energy storm.

This self-destructive sacrifice, though brief, cleared a death zone with undeniable force, creating a precious, fleeting window of opportunity.

Legnius let out a heart-wrenching roar. Using the thrust from the explosion, he slammed his giant wings down, carrying Imrek and the eight surviving fire dragons like arrows released from a bow. They flew through the aftershocks of the white light towards North Harbor, towards the unknown but at least hopeful Second Pass, fleeing for their lives.

Leandera, the dragon mage who awakened hope and indirectly brought disaster, ultimately transformed herself into the last shooting star that illuminated the path to survival for her companions in the most tragic way.

Her existence vanished completely in the afterglow of the still-spreading pure white energy in the sky, leaving only a wisp of mournful wind to witness this cruel final act.

(In the outline, she is positioned as Imrek's strategist and the Saintess of Caledon. In the final siege, she led the last remaining dragon prince on horseback in a final charge, and Asanok was the one who collected her body. That's all...) (End of Chapter)