Dragon Bay stretched like a scar of fire across the landscape. Geysers of steam rose from the sea. Dragons — black, red, silver, ice — flew above their volcanic islets. Only the Dragon Guild had the right to establish outposts there.

Kael called hippogriffs. They soared into the sky. The flight was exhilarating and terrifying — the howling wind, the scalding clouds of steam, the dragons passing by, indifferent. Then a column of black smoke twisted on the horizon. Dark shapes burst forth — corrupted hippogriffs, feathers black as night, eyes red as fire.

— Hold on! Kael screamed.

The aerial battle was chaotic. The corrupted hippogriffs surrounded them, forcing them toward a volcanic islet. A trap. Kael's mount was struck by three creatures at once. He toppled.

— KAEL!

Aelith dove. Her hippogriff plunged like an arrow. She caught Kael a few meters above the burning ground — but her mount crashed onto the hardened lava, shattering its legs.

Kael knelt beside his dying hippogriff. Tears ran down his cheeks.

— I am sorry, he whispered.

The hippogriff let out one last cry — a cry of forgiveness — then closed its eyes. Kael stared at the corrupted creatures.

— Rastacan did this.

— Or Shabakan did, Draven corrected. Rastacan is only a vessel. The accursed serpent is the true culprit.

— It matters not. I will kill him. I will kill them both.

Draven raised the dead. The fallen hippogriffs rose again, turning against their former allies. Elyndra screamed her revulsion. But the corrupted ones were defeated.

On the central altar, beneath volcanic rocks, Grundar found the guard of the sword of Nerecleiss — a piece of black metal engraved with dragon runes. But no one rejoiced. The price had been too high. And that night, Kael silently swore to make Rastacan pay.