A broken dragon flies through the dark canopy above, barreling toward them both. Narrowing her eyes with lethal intensity, Valasca draws back her fists, slides her fingers along the runes of her varg-rune-marked blade, then hurls both weapons forward with a guttural cry. Both slash across the sky and find their mark, one slamming into the dragon to impale its forehead, the other punching into the neck of the Mage astride the broken beast.

The Mage’s neck snaps back as the dragon’s head bursts into a ball of emerald flame, the dark creature’s flight pattern chaotic as the Mage’s wand falls from his hand.

Valasca presses her thumbs to the retrieval rune on her palm and the rune-charged blade flies back, slapping into her hand as the dragon crashes into a nearby smoking building, the Mage flying off its back and landing in a lifeless heap. Wasting no time, Valasca sheathes her blade, grabs quivering little Inge, and breaks into a run down the Shadow-fogged streets as the little girl screams “Mum’yi! Mum’yi!” over and over.

The child’s terror is a dart straight through Valasca’s emotions, even as she tries to force sympathy aside and allow her coolly vicious battle-mind to descend. But a choking feeling breaks through, rising hot in her throat as she takes in the dead women’s and children’s bodies strewn amidst the rubble, many of whom she knows. And the animals...beautiful horses rendered to carnage, the children’s little pet Visay’un deer mangled, so many broken corpses. Bile rises in Valasca’s throat as she considers what’s likely become of her beloved goats, the horses she helped raise from spirited foals...

And then she spots her friend Evralyr splayed on the street amidst the rubble, her kind smile forever stilled, her normally violet face a sickly death mask of gray, her long lavender hair a black-blooded mess. Valasca struggles to keep the devastating rush of grief from completely shattering her as a more potent fury grips hold.

A young Amaz appears, running toward her through the twining gray mist—an Alfsigr girl of about thirteen. Her black Amaz facial rune marks are a stark contrast to her ivory face, her salt-white hair short and spiky, an uncharged rune blade in her fist. She sets silver eyes on Valasca just as the amorphous form of a Mage appears through the fog behind her, the glimmering green of him monstrously highlighted by the surrounding shades of gray.

“Take the child and get behind me!” Valasca snarls.

The Alfsigr teen glances once over her shoulder, then briefly turns, silver eyes wide with terror as she runs frantically to Valasca, pausing only to take hold of Inge before darting behind Valasca as Shadow dragons streak by overhead and the Mage advances.

He strides toward them almost idly, his young, handsome form solidifying as a smile curls his lips, cruel, green eyes narrowing.