"Elarion, you're going to have to help Wyver—he's getting overrun. I don't think he can keep them off much longer."
While Stormwing and Gaia had little trouble with their respective foes, the number of giant bees had swelled past a hundred. Though dozens had already crumbled into dust from the blizzard Wyver unleashed to keep them at bay, the insects were beginning to push through. Their wings vibrated faster, their patterns shifting, and now their tails were acting like spears—fired like javelins from the air.
Even as they perished, they continued the assault.
The stingers weren't mere barbs; they launched with enough force to rival ballista bolts. Several struck Wyver, slamming into his scales hard enough to draw blood despite failing to pierce through completely. A few had cracked his armor-like hide, weakening his aerial control. The frost drake began to falter in the air, drifting lower—becoming a sitting target for the next wave.
