The silence on the Spire was absolute, broken only by the sound of the Black Tides gnawing at the stone. Fafnir, his golden scales cracked and dull, was the first to stir. His fingers, trembling and stained with the grey ash of his brother, fumbled at his neck until hefound the Pendant, the emergency anchor given to them for the impossible.
With a ragged, gutteral gasp, he channeled the last flicker of his Sun-Fire into the gem.
"Home..." he wheezed, his voice a ghost of its former power. "Take... them... home."
The pendant didn't glow; it screamed. A pillar of white-blue light erupted from the center of the massacre, wrapping around the broken forms of Ingi, Veydris, Terragon, Aurion, the Twins, Frostfang, and a catatonic Nerathis. In a flash of cold brilliance, the Obscura Spire was left empty, save for the blood and the soot of the fallen dragon.
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