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In the desolate stillness of the undead plane, a sudden rift tore open. Through it tumbled a silver dragon, battered and spent, crashing into the barren earth and sending up a plume of dust.
A suffocating weakness coiled about Aurelian's body and soul. That silver power, an alien energy somehow wrested from Milos, had been overdrawn, checked, and bound. The backlash left her grievously drained.
"Damn it…"
She clenched her teeth, tasting both bitterness and defeat. The heretic dragons, mighty beyond reckoning, had all perished. Looking back, their extraordinary strength seemed inextricably entwined with Milos himself.
"What else can I do? Sieg, Noelle, where are you? Curse it all…"
The plane itself repelled her presence. With effort, Aurelian shed her dragon form and staggered to a nearby boulder, collapsing against it. Her unfocused eyes lifted toward the sky, where a dim, ring-shaped sun hung over the deathly expanse.
For once, the sharp-witted, decisive Aurelian...
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