“With pleasure,” the Raven said.
She unleashed a furious barrage of strikes, driving the woman towards the vent at the center of the platform. Melora struggled to defend, fear rising in her eyes as she was driven back to the edge, where a column of heated air rose from the hole. The Raven twisted and struck for Melora’s throat. She threw her sword up, but the Raven dropped her swing, striking the sword from her grip. The blade tumbled into the hole with a clang.
“Please,” Melora said, falling to her knees and raising a hand. “I’ve always lived to serve.”
“You serve yourself,” Draeken said. “You always have.”
“I am loyal to you,” she quivered as the Raven placed her sword on her throat.
“You betrayed your home and family,” Draeken said. “Your mother and sister. I admire your ambition, but not even they would save your life.”
“I would.”
All four turned to face the small figure striding to them. She held two orange daggers in her hands, her cloak thrown back to reveal her dark elf features, and the small silver circle about her head.
“Queen Erisay,” Draeken said, delighted by the sudden arrival. “I must say, you arrived just in time to witness the death of your daughter.”
Serak hissed orders to the soldiers and they rushed about, searching for other intruders. Draeken ignored them, his gaze fixed on the approaching dark elf. Erisay’s features were set in a hard line, and Melora looked to her with hope, tears in her eyes.
“I have no wish to see my daughter perish,” Erisay said.
“I admit I am surprised,” Draeken said. “After all she has done to you and your people, I would think her death would bring you peace.”
“The death of a child never brings peace,” Erisay said. “Even an errant one.”
“Mother,” Melora pleaded. “I’m sorry.”
“Free my daughter,” Erisay said. “Or you’ll deal with me.”
Draeken burst into a laugh as Gorewrathian landed behind Erisay. His jaws opened and flames trickled between his teeth, but Draeken raised a finger, holding the dragon at bay. He cocked his head to the side.
“And what threat do you pose to me?” he asked.
“Not to you,” she said, “but I can still do you harm.”
Draeken winced as a dull thrumming filled his ears, the sound rising and crashing over him. He reached to his ears to block the sound but it vibrated into his bones and blood, crashing through his skull. He grimaced as it continued to mount. Thirty feet away, the Gate was trembling.
“The Gate!” Serak screamed.
Draeken reached for the cloak and darted to the Raven, throwing it about her shoulders. Startled, she retreated, and then her eyes widened. She screamed as the magic sank into her flesh, empowering her hunger, her flesh turning weak and thin, hanging on her bones. Melora scrambled to Erisay, who caught her hand and bolted, sprinting away from the dragon’s charge.
A bellowed roar echoed, and two rock trolls appeared behind the dragon. Rynda dropped on the creature’s back and drove her greatsword into his flank. The dragon reared back, flames bursting from its maw at the sudden strike. But Mox came from behind, and brought his hammer down on the embedded blade like a hammer on a nail, driving the greatsword deep into the dragon’s back.
The dragon bellowed in pain and thrashed about, nearly crushing everyone as it sought to dislodge the buried blade. Draeken ducked as the tail snapped above his head, but a wing caught Serak, knocking him skidding away.
And still the thrumming from the Dark Gate mounted.
Heedless of the battle, Serak raised the stone around the Gate like a shield, but the thrumming did not diminish. The stone cracked and crumbled, even as cracks appeared in the Gate arch. Serak shouted to Draeken, his voice tinged with fear.
“The Gate is imbued with anti-magic,” he shouted. “It should be stopping her magic.”
“She isn’t using her magic to strike directly,” Draeken said, watching the Raven transform into Famine. “She’s using a rising shriek curse to break the very stone.”
Draeken turned away from the writhing figure and the dragon battle. Even as more rock trolls dropped into view and struck the wounded dragon, he stepped to the side of the Gate, where the runes lay hidden.
“Draeken!”
His hand on the activation rune to Kelindor, Draeken looked back, and found Fire and Water rushing towards him. He smiled, pleased that they would be here for this. After all they had done to him, the very least they could do was witness his victory.
“You don’t have to do this!” Water shouted.
“Ah, the one piece of me that remains apart,” Draeken said. “Don’t worry, I’ll tear it from your corpse in time.”
Fire gathered flames in his hands and struck the two human guards rushing his flank. “Opening that thing could destroy everything.”
“I know,” Draeken said.
“Then why would you do this?” Water demanded, fending off a trio of Order soldiers.
More appeared behind him, and two more dark elves engaged them. A pair of dwarves joined the battle, blocking the stairs leading below, where soldiers rushed to join the conflict from the barracks.
“I am the fragment of Power,” Draeken snarled, rage abruptly spilling into his blood. “And I deserve to rule, to command the lesser races, to be lord over kingdoms and races. In the face of my power, even dragons kneel.”
Gorewrathian had caught Rynda’s sword and yanked it out. It tumbled away but Lira raced into view and caught the enormous blade. She heaved it across the expanding battlefield and Rynda caught the hilt just as the dragon’s tail snapped, catching her on the chest, the spikes digging into her hardened flesh and knocking her sideways. The giant dragon dropped its jaws but Rynda rolled to the side and slashed across the dragon’s teeth.
The sound from the Gate continued to grow, deep and resonant.
“Please don’t do this,” Water pleaded, extending his hand. “You were part of our family once. You can be again.”
