Draken's Imperial City's roof rushed past in a blur beneath their feet.

Aric and Serina were shadows cutting across the night, their figures darting between moonlight and darkness.

Below them the capital still kept with life—lanterns swaying, drunkards singing, guards marching in their predictable routes. But up here, above the glow and noise, the air was sharp, quiet, and theirs.

Aric's boots touched stone with soundless precision before springing to the next roof.

Serina followed close, her robes whispering against the shingles, magic thrumming faintly around her frame with each step.

"You make this look too easy," she muttered between strides, her voice muffled by the cloth hugged across her lower face.

Aric didn't turn. "It's not supposed to be hard."

There was a beat of silence, then Serina asked the question both knew had to come.

"What about the others? The two still left."

Aric didn't hesitate. "Selim and Ozborn."

The names carried weight. Not like Denari, the drunken fool whose arrogance had undone him. These two were sharper, more disciplined, and in some ways more dangerous because of it.

"They're not as reckless as Denari," Aric continued, vaulting lightly across a gap in the roofs.

His shadow elongated, split by the moon before it snapped back as he landed.

"They won't waste their strength in brothels or gambling dens. They'll be exactly where they're supposed to be."

"And where is that?" Serina pressed, keeping pace.

"Blackrock Plains."

The words struck her harder than the leap she was about to make. Serina almost faltered, her boot scraping against the edge of a roof tile before she forced herself forward.

She landed hard, crouched low, staring at him with widened eyes.

"Where the dragons roam?"

"Yes." His answer was as calm as if he'd named a street corner tavern.

She straightened, incredulous. "Are you serious? Fighting dragons? That's reckless."

"Perhaps," Aric cut in smoothly, his eyes fixed ahead. "But we have no choice. If we wait longer than this night, Denari will crawl to his companions. He'll tell them what we did. By dawn the hunt will be on, and we'll lose our advantage."

Serina clenched her jaw, still moving but her mind working fast.

She'd fought beasts, men, mages, even monsters she'd brought from beneath the ground—but dragons? That was another story.

Aric must have read her silence because his tone softened slightly, though it never lost that blade-edge of command.

"Selim's dragon won't be there. It's incapacitated—severely wounded. From what I learned, it's unconscious while undergoing treatment. That means Selim is stripped of its power. Without the dragon being conscious, the ring can't chanel it's strength, he's little more than an average third-class mage."

"So I handle him," Serina said, her voice quieter now, but steadier.

"You handle him," Aric confirmed.

His steps slowed, the rooftops narrowing as the city walls rose ahead. Beyond them lay open plains and the black horizon. "Easily, I expect."

She smirked beneath the cloth. "Don't flatter me too much." Then after a pause: "And what about Ozborn?"

Aric's eyes gleamed as the moonlight caught them. "His dragon is well. Present. Which makes him quite dangerous."

Serina frowned. "So what's your plan?"

"I'll take care of it."

She let out a laugh that wasn't really a laugh, more like a puff of disbelief.

"You know, if anyone else told me they'd take care of a Flame Crusader and his dragon, I'd call them full of shit."

Aric finally turned his head slightly, just enough for her to see the faintest curl of a smile.

"Good thing I'm not anyone else."

---

They left the city behind before long, slipping through the gate under the cover of night traffic.

Merchants and caravans moved even at late hours; no one noticed two more cloaked figures among the countless shadows.

Once past the walls, they moved swiftly across the open countryside, heading for the infamous stretch of land known as Blackrock Plains.

The landscape grew darker with every mile.

The soil turned from brown to ashen gray, and then to deep black, scorched in patches where the earth seemed to have burned and never healed.

Rocks jutted out like broken teeth, and the smell of char lingered in the air as though the land itself remembered fire.

The night sky above stretched vast and merciless, the stars sharp and clear. But it was the shadows that drew their eyes.

Enormous shapes wheeled across the sky, wings catching moonlight before vanishing into cloud.

A deep rumble would occasionally echo, low and primal—the sound of dragons that claimed this territory as theirs.

Serina's breath hitched as one passed overhead, so close she could see the rough scales lining its belly.

Its wingspan blotted out half the sky before it soared higher, a black silhouette against silver light.

Her voice came out hushed. "There really are… so many of them."

Aric didn't look up. His stride was calm, unwavering. "This is their grounds. The empire long learned to let them have it rather than bleed soldiers endlessly trying to claim it."

She shook her head, glancing again at the sky. "And you want to fight in this place?"

"It's where Selim and Ozborn feel strongest. Which makes it where they feel safest." His gaze cut forward like a blade into the horizon. "That comfort will be their downfall."

---

By the time they reached the deeper plains, the air seemed heavier.

The ground crunched beneath their boots, black stone fractured with faint glowing cracks like veins of cooled magma.

The silence between dragon cries was oppressive, pressing against the ears.

Then Aric slowed, raising a hand. They crouched low behind a jagged outcrop, peering across the expanse.

There—two figures.

In the distance, illuminated by pale moonlight and the occasional flare of ember from the rocks, stood Selim and Ozborn.

Selim leaned against a stone formation, his posture tired, almost resigned.

Ozborn was different: upright, alert, a broad-shouldered silhouette with unmistakable presence. Even from here, Aric could feel the faint ripple of power radiating from him—the resonance of his dragon.

Serina exhaled slowly. "So it's really them."

Aric nodded once. His voice was low, precise. "You draw Selim away. I'll handle Ozborn."

She looked at him, eyes narrowing behind her mask. "You're serious about this."

"I always am."

For a moment, silence. Then she smiled faintly beneath the cloth, the kind of smile that came from accepting insanity and making it her's aswell.

"Fine," she said. "Let's do it."

Aric raised the black cloth higher over his nose, concealing the lower half of his face. His eyes gleamed in the darkness, unreadable, unshaken.

"Get ready," he murmured.

Serina mirrored him, pulling her cloth tighter.

Her hands flexed, faint traces of light and arcane energy playing across her fingers before fading to nothing.

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of ash. Above them, another dragon roared, distant but close enough to send a tremor through the stone beneath their feet.

Aric's hand brushed the hilt of his dagger, the black steel humming faintly as if hungry for what was to come.

He glanced at Serina. She gave a sharp nod.

Then his voice cut the night, quiet but final.

"Move."

And like shadows, they slipped forward into the scorched darkness of Blackrock Plains.

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