The night grew darker.
Far south of the military outpost that now burned in flames, Ulrich and his men ran across the vast plain, heading to the rendezvous point.
Their mission was a resounding success with zero casualties, and now all that was left for them was to regroup with the rest of the Dark King's forces aboard the Red Wind.
Valerian had comfortably made Ulric's head his seat. But he wasn't looking ahead. Instead, his gaze was fixed behind them, on Edward's battlefield. The distant sound of battle faintly echoed in his ears.
The young dragon had known Edward practically all his life. So it would be an understatement to say he wasn't worried about him. Especially given that, at the moment, the youth was fighting one of, if not the most important, battles of his life.
Please be alright, Valerian thought to himself, his grip around Ulric's head subconsciously tightening.
