The army came at dawn.
Owen stood on the highest tower of the palace, watching them approach. His Dragon's Eye cut through the distance, revealing details that made his chest tight.
Four legions. Thirty thousand demons, at least. Siege towers. War machines. Banners of black and purple snapping in a wind that carried the stench of the Nether.
And at their head...
Fifty dragons.
They flew in formation, their corrupted scales catching the wrong light. Some still showed traces of their original colors beneath the miasma's stain. Others had transformed completely, their bodies twisted into shapes that barely resembled dragons at all. Extra limbs. Distorted wings. Eyes that burned with purple fire.
Leading them, larger than the rest, darker than the rest....
Vorthraxx.
