Mountains overlooking Aravell – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
Rokka ran his fingers over the coarse, wet silver scales that covered the mutilated head of the dragon before him. The creature's body had been ripped to shreds and scattered across the mountain. He'd found the Draleid, dead, over two hundred feet away. The Aldruid, Calen Bryer's sister, as fate would have it, was powerful – one of the most powerful Aldruids Rokka had seen in a very long time – but she had overextended herself. Still, this was the right path.
Rokka rose to his feet, looking out over the city of Aravell from the cliff where he stood. The rain was lighter now, only drizzling. Fires still burned in the forest beyond, but most of those within the city had been quelled.
All the pieces were falling into place. Two more Dragonguard were dead. Only six remained now, though one dwelled in Karvos and another in Ardan. He would have them seen to shortly. There was no reason to leave loose ends untied.
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool, crisp air.
"There is still much left to do," he whispered, his voice swallowed by the wind. Then he turned and walked back into the woods.