The enormous Soul Raven hung motionless above the battlefield.
Its wings stretched across the sky like a living eclipse, blotting out the golden radiance of the hidden realm. Black mist coiled around its body, and every beat of its wings scattered feathers that dissolved into clouds of corruption before reaching the ground.
Four crimson eyes fixed upon John.
They were not the eyes of a beast.
They were intelligent.
Watching.
Judging.
Then the creature spoke again.
**"The Dragon... must not... pass."**
Its voice echoed across the floating islands.
John hovered in the air, his wings beating steadily.
"You can speak."
The Soul Raven tilted its head.
For a brief instant, the crimson glow within one of its eyes dimmed.
"...Once..."
It paused, as though searching through forgotten memories.
"...I... could."
Lythriel frowned.
"That's not a monster talking."
Aerion's expression became solemn.
"No."
"It isn't."
The elf lowered his sword slightly.
