Just as the wave of shadows was about to engulf Dagon and the others whole, a shiver ran down Dagon's spine and a sound like ringing glass came as white snow coated the ground and the water turned to ice, rising upwards and creating a barrier of thick, clear ice.
The wall shook violently when the wave of demons crashed into it, but it held firm, not even a single crack appearing within the thick ice. After a couple moments, the ice wall managed to defend against the entire attack, repelling the shadows and protecting Dagon and his allies.
*What..?* Dagon thought in shock, then he looked over and saw there was a huge, stark white dragon with brilliant, glistening scales standing face to face with Zickarys. The dragon was almost the same size as Zickarys, maybe even larger. And atop the dragon was a rider, a man with two horns like ice, clear, sharp and see through.
Dagon blinked in shock, unable to process what was happening. Without a doubt, the white dragon was the one he'd seen at the Valley of Scales… but what he didn't notice before, or what he didn't realize, was that it's rider was a pure blood.
The rider had pale skin and wore a thick white and black coat over his body with fur around the collar. The cost itself was undone down the middle and the sleeves hung over his shoulders while his muscular, scarred arms were crossed at his chest. He was a burly man with a thick gray beard and short gray hair. Silver studs were in each of his ears and his eyes were a cold, light blue and had a calculating edge to them. At each hip was an axe with intricate designs and etchings into its shimmering silver handle and blade, black leather wrapped about its handle.
"Gänhir." Mourtas growled. "What the hell are you doing here? And what purpose do you have to interfere with my activities?"
The white dragon brought its face close to Zickarys, both of them baring their fangs.
The white dragon had two long, sleek horns and its spine and back were coated in clear, see through spikes of ice. The ice armor also covered it's limbs and it's snout, as well as increasing the length of its horns. It had massive wings, the webbing clear blue with strange glowing patterns. It's talons were long and thin, serrated on the underside. It had a thick snout with a large underbite, it's huge teeth jutting up from the lower jaw. It's tail ended in a pointed barb of ice.
"Well, Mourtas," the rider, Gänhir, spoke, his voice deep and brusque, but still powerful. "I doubt you've heard, considering how you are always caught up in your 'activities', but I have taken the throne of the Leina Kingdom. Meaning I now rule over all of the Lasia Region."
"Oh? And what is your intention, then?" Mourtas growled.
"You know I never agreed to this war from the beginning. I thought it was pointless, and disgusting. But I had no choice but to join you… but I've been planning this for years now, and it's finally time. The rule of man is over, and the dragons shall no longer be enslaved…" Gänhir lifted his chin, staring Mourtas down intently. "I declare war on the Three Kingdoms of Seryad."
Mourtas's eyes narrowed. "Three against one? And you honestly believe you could win those odds?"
"I do. The Dragon King has risen, and so the time has come. The return of the Dragon Kin is nigh, and you shall be swept away by the coming storm."
Dagon looked on in awe. Gänhir exuded confidence and power, that of a true king. In that moment Dagon found himself admiring the rider, and he also realized how he would want to be as a king.
"Well, am I to assume you wish to take these runts under your kingdom?" Mourtas growled.
"Yes. They are under my protection, and if you really wish to try and take them.." Gänhir spoke as the sound of thrumming wings came above and two more dragons landed beside him, one of emerald scales and the other of violet, each having a rider atop them. "I'm afraid that this war will start sooner than you'd anticipate. And I will take the first of three of the Kings' knights."
Mourtas chuckled. "Fine. I understand." He glared over at Dagon. "Seems you have Lady Luck on your side, dear nephew. But, don't worry. We will meet again, I can assure you of that much."
Zickarys hissed, letting out an enraged and frustrated bellow before shooting into the air and disappearing into the black smoke.
Gänhir turned to Dagon.
"Do you remember me, boy?" He asked.
"Yes." Dagon said. "I do."
"I see… I am truly sorry about your father. He was a dear friend of mine. He knew of my plan, but… he never joined me." Gänhir chuckled. "The stubborn fool, he insisted he'd rather go out in a blaze of glory fighting for his people than come out on top using 'underhanded tactics' as he had called them."
"Yeah.. my father was quite stubborn." Dagon echoed sadly.
"And he indeed went out in a blaze of glory." Gänhir spoke, bowing his head. Then he turned to Gena. "It is good to see you, Goldie. It's been so long. I can see your wounds have been healed up nicely, how does it feel being contaminated with black magic?"
"It is… unsettling. But I must say, I never expected you to act so soon, much less be here at this time." Gena growled. "How did you even know what was happening?"
"Well, as you know, I am a true blood. I have special contact with the Dragon Goddess Queen, and she informed me that Dagon had passed Phenor's trial. And so, here I am."
"Why don't you become the Dragon King…?" Dagon asked quietly.
"Hmm?" Gänhir furrowed his brow. "Why would I? That title belongs to you, dear boy. Always has, ever since the day you were born under your father's name. And, as I promised him, I will be the one to train you and craft you into a right proper king."
Dagon held tightly to Sephtis. His dragon still hadn't come to, he stayed still and unconscious. Dagon was beginning to worry.. and he was beginning to question himself.