Damien rode the night like a phantom, high above the world atop Skylar's mighty back.
His Shadowfang Wyvern sliced through the clouds with effortless speed, the great beast's wings beating in perfect rhythm as it carried him across the vast expanse of land below.
The stars above twinkled faintly, half-hidden behind drifting clouds, while the land stretched endlessly beneath them—rolling plains, dark forests, winding rivers, and isolated villages, their lights glowing like scattered embers in the vast darkness of the continent.
From this height, the world seemed so small, so distant. And yet, Damien knew that with every passing moment, he was drawing closer to Velthorne—the fortress-city that housed the last remnants of Lord Raegon's forces as well as Lord Raegon himself.
A grim smile tugged at his lips.
Soon.
He would end this.
But even as Damien pressed forward, a strange unease settled into his gut.
