Snow is falling. The air is cold and tense. The creatures have come out of their shells. The shrieks are getting louder and louder while the cries more deafening. A dragon is flying overhead, her white and golden scales somehow shining through the foggy forest. The king is dead; his saddle is being buried by the falling snow while Mrs. Relina's body is covered from head to toe in blood- whether hers or not no one knows.
Arion sees this from where he stands. They have been sent from Arcane to come over and help. They have been studying magic for a few years already and at this point, they are deemed ready. The rest of the students have come riding on their own dragons; small but mighty yet Arion has no dragon, he had to walk to get here.
