“There’s still people—” Janel started to protest.

Above their heads, Morios turned his head and looked right at the bridge.

Kihrin didn’t think it was his imagination Morios was looking down at them in particular. He was quite sure Morios hadn’t only seen him but that the dragon had recognized him. Dragons seemed to pay more attention to souls than people, and his would no doubt seem familiar.

“Arasgon, take Janel out of here!” Kihrin yelled. “Where’s Qown?” He spotted the little priest not far from Senera’s portal, which probably wasn’t a coincidence.

“I’m here, but there’s—”

“You’re next to a gate. Run!” Kihrin shouted.

Morios raised a wicked, spiked claw over their heads, and people surged for the open portals. Some, knowing they couldn’t possibly make it in time, began jumping off the bridge on the Lake Jorat side.

Suddenly, Scandal stood next to Kihrin, and he vaulted onto her back. Janel and Arasgon, knowing they’d also never make it to a gate, didn’t even try—they began galloping full out for the end of the bridge. Kihrin and Scandal followed. Or more accurately, Scandal followed, and Kihrin held on for dear life. He could only pray that the others had made it through the gate safely—which he did out loud, in case Taja could spare a second from fighting demons in the Afterlife.

He heard a loud whistling sound and looked back to see Morios’s bladed body slicing through the air. Then the dragon’s claw slammed into the bridge, making the entire length undulate. The section of bridge under Scandal’s feet jumped. He fell out of sync with her, slammed against her back as she recovered, and slid off her side, holding on by a single tuft of mane.

Kihrin screamed. He felt Scandal slowing, trying to give him time to recover.

“Keep running!”

He could hear the metal-on-stone screeching of Morios’s claws behind them. Right behind them.

Kihrin reached up, managed to find purchase with his other hand, and somehow pulled himself back up on Scandal’s back. She whinnied, and he desperately wished he understood the language of firebloods.

The metallic scream suddenly stopped. The air vibrated behind him, and he heard an enormous thud. He looked back to see Morios slam himself a second time against a diaphanous rainbow-hued wall of energy that had materialized behind Kihrin.

Kihrin had seen something very much like it before, and just as he blinked in recognition, the bridge ended and he was on solid ground again. Morios gave one last, half-hearted attempt to break the magical energy field before turning his attention back to the city. Clearly, it was more interesting.

“Introduce us to your friends, Thurvishar,” Janel was saying.