stride his trusty hippogriff, Meneldir ascended into the darkness that spanned over his head, the heat of battle replaced by the cold embrace of winter, dark clouds and smoke blotting away his already poor vision. And the worst: he was not alone in those sullen clouds.

Even though it was dark, he could see the shadow of great black wings above him. At first it was fearful, but then he noticed feathers, much to his relief. "How does it feel up here?" asked Vil, lowering down to his level of flight.

"You scared me," Mey yelled back, trying to convince his hippogriff to not fear the colossal raptor which soared beside them, "I hate flying through thunderstorms."

"Well, then you're out of luck. This is where the battle shall commence."

"I know, you need not remind me of my horrible situation," Mey replied, struggling to hold onto his mount as the smoky vapours of water brushed against his body, the cold embrace trailing along his cheeks with skeletal fingers.

"I thought as one of the woodland folk, you'd be more used to flights than I would be."

"I am, but not like this," he replied, "your domain is vast and open, any incoming army can be spotted from miles afar. Ours is a dark carpet of greens, riddled with undergrowth where anyone can hide with much effect, hippogriffs have no use other than for foraging or scouting."

"Not your fault," Vil replied, "air reconnaissance is difficult, you'll need keen eyes and good understanding to figure out your enemy's plans, even I can't bring myself to do it."

Mey looked down from his mount and through the bulwark that surrounded him, and indeed Vil was right: from above the turbulent lines, which from land appeared a sea of smoke and spear, was but a motionless field from above.

In the darkness it looked no different from the glistening treetops which surrounded the clearing. The only things that dotted out to him were the pale green fires in a distance, from where the daemons entered the field.

I wonder how long we can stand it, Mey thought to himself, is this aerial battle all that matters?

"Mey! Watch out!" shouted Vil.

...

All of a sudden, Mey was taken by surprise. A green blast of fire hit him like a lance, narrowly missing thanks to the action of his hippogriff, catching him off guard. His heart throbbed, wreathed in fright.

"Mey, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I am. Where did that come from?"

"The magic of Morthaur works its way in these dark halls," Vil replied, "be wary, and do not stray off without prior notice."

"I won't," Mey replied.

And longer he flew, crossing through the shadows with haste and caution, Vil alongside him, until at last he happened upon two dragons: Muldred, Lord of Star-Wyrms, his brown wings laced with creamy rims fluttering in the quick wind, a blue tempest of lightning and fire surrounding him. And there was Caravir: Lord of Forest Dragons, his broken antler restored, but his wings still colourless, a tranquil rain of healing around him.

"Fire and glory!" wished Mey, flying in between the two.

"Fire and glory, prince," the dragons wished back, "be careful, let us absorb his blows as much as you can, for his sheer might alone will devastate you."

"Don't worry about that," Vil interrupted, "we'll stay out of combat, aiding you three with spells as much as we can."

"Three?" asked Mey.

"Oh, yeah, him," said Vil, pointing before him to another dragon: a dragon pink and purple with pale green eyes: a fell dragon with an aura of chaos encircling him. Yet he was not an enemy, they could tell on first glance.

"Lord Krayn!" shouted Vil, "good to see you again!"

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Vilyánur," Krayn replied, "it is good to be back into the mortal plane, albeit this stay shall be short. If we are to defeat the Aspect, we need to combine our powers and strike him one after another."

"Do you think we can?" asked Mey, "he is too powerful, is he not?"

"Do not fear," said Vilyánur, "we have an advantage of numbers."

"It will take much more than that," said Krayn, "he is no lesser daemon, and even our might accumulated together stands little in his way."

"Power does not win battles, at least not always," Vil replied, "remember how I defeated you with a warp-gate? No matter how strong a daemon is, they are all subject to the same laws of physics as we are. An immense strike of arcane energy can defeat any daemon, let alone a mere aspect. For if my calculations are correct, our powers are enough to take him down."

"I hope so, although that will only be proven once the battle ensues," Krayn replied with a glint of mortal hope, "speaking of which . . . brace yourselves: Morthaur approaches."

*****

First came the storm: a whisper of wrath and ruin and a tempest of fire, dotting out of them two pale orbs of green that burned with envy and pierced like cold, and the onset of his coming was the tramp of terror and dismay.

Like how two armies initiate their battle with a skirmish, the dragons begun their battle with an exchange of powers, trying their best to dominate the clouds. Even though the three of them stood strong, their energies penetrating the veil of the voids, they were little hindrance to the Aspect's sheer might.

"Shall I go in and flay his mind?" asked Muldred, cautious and wary.

"Do not make that mistake," Krayn replied, "he is beyond your powers. Weaken him first with your breath and claw, then crush his mind with your powers."

"Got it," Muldred replied, fleeing into the clouds with Caravir beside him.

Krayn was the first to encounter the Aspect, and on their reunion they conversed, even negotiated as it seemed. Krayn warned him to leave, but the Aspect would have none of it.

At last Krayn struck with a breath of flame, blinding the Aspect long enough to flee into the shadows, leaving him alone, but not for long.

As the Aspect looked about, the air around him simmered blue and white, and then he was struck with a jet of lightning from all sides. In anguish he let out a howl of terror, the blue strands of light trailing along his scales, shedding them away.

The flash was bright and thunder deafening, even on the ground they heard it and stopped battling, many an elf and daemon blinded by the flash and deafened by the thunder and roar.

And the Aspect responded with a strike of chaos, detonating invisible green mines left and right, hitting the three dragons to moderate effect.

A rain of fire had begun, both sides struggled as burning stones damaged them dearly. In some sections the fighting stopped altogether, for both sides saw it fruitless and irrelevant, instead they hastened to seek shelter from the rain.

Seizing the opportunity, the three dragons struck the Aspect with rivers of red, blue, and green fires. The Aspect retorted with a piercing cry, instilling fear and awe into his foes, squandering them for the clouds once again.

Once the clouds had cleared a bit, they saw the Aspect far deformed than he had been before. His wings were torn, his scales loosened, his eye scratched, and many of his teeth broken away.

At the very sight of it, all their hearts sang with joy, until they saw the dark clouds erupt into a golden glow – slowly it turned red, and then as white as the core of lightning.

Vil and Mey dove downwards to protect themselves from the explosion of fire, appearing to those below as black angels searing through a bright sky. Though it was evening already, the sky appeared brighter than day.

...

The balance of power shifted not in favour of one or the other, but into a realm they could not see. The soldiers were losing the will to fight, there was no use struggling against the enemy's numberless hordes.

"No!" screamed Aeresil, taken by horror. He had never lost a battle before, and he wouldn't lose this one either. And so he thought as he charged through a sea of enemies like a lion, smiting his foes down with swift vengeance. For long he battled, until in his blindness he found himself in the middle of his enemies.

He had no chance to win, he knew it, but still he fought on. His axe broke as he cleft through the front-line general, his armour had rent away after having been struck countless times, his body was now clattered by hundreds of arrows and spears. Beside him lay the bodies of countless daemons of the elitest rank, for he had now done everything to thin the hordes.

"Praise Darrian!" he shouted out loud, "I am yours, my king . . . I have completed my duty, and now is time for me to rest. Today I die and return to Alímar."

As he said that, he knelt unto his knees and let the multitude of daemons grasp him, thereafter exploding into a geyser of light and fire, vanquishing the greatest horde with his death.

"Aeresil Brightroar," wished Vilyánur. "Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

*****

Before they could heed, the sliver of night had taken over, surrounding the three dragons in a cloak of dark and dreariness, looming before them like the doors of death. And then it came out of the shadow, addressing each of them individually:

The world in fear and dismay lies,

it's ultimate demise is at hand;

know your calls of plea are useless,

when Morthaur dwells your land.

No one here or the world beyond,

can protect you all from this fright;

there is no power not abhorred,

that can stand Morthaur's might.

Lo! The dark days are hasting on,

as the ancient legends foretold;

for when the cosmic dots align,

shall return the Dark Ones of old.

The wisdom of the ancients calls,

shadows fall, the end has begun;

the only mercy you shall ever face,

is the embrace of annihilation.

The sky shook and clouds gurgled, his voice rattled through the earth around him. And all those who stood before the Aspect fled, fearful of his immense powers. But the rout was a mere deception; they had another plan in mind.

"Haughty comments," Muldred spoke to him telepathically, "it will be awkward if you die now, will it not?"

"You'll see!" replied the Aspect, unleashing a blast of green fire upon him, hitting his tail and legs, but buying enough time for the others to escape.

...

"Mey," Vil spoke to him, "I'll hold him in place with my aerial shackles, use your spirit spells to weaken him."

Mey nodded, turning his hippogriff towards the chaos god, flying below so as to not raise caution. Vil flew above him and cast a net of storms upon the Aspect.

The creature screamed in agony, pinned in the middle of the sky. And then Mey attacked, charging a spirit strike upon the great dragon.

The first attack was pretty useless, the Aspect evaded it with his superior might, blasting bolts of fire at Vil and Mey, but missing closely as they flew off into the shadows. And once again they repeated the procedure, and two more times. Five times they did it, and finally their actions showed signs of promise.

In a flash of light and searing heat, the dragon's scales fell apart, shattering like glass.

Thence struck Muldred with a blast of blue fire, digging into his scales like an array of daggers, Vilyánur with his spell pinning the Aspect in one place. And the Aspect responded with a blast of his own, nearly knocking Muldred out of the skies.

"Stop!" shouted Krayn, charging in like a lion upon the Aspect, his claw and bite digging into his wounded underside, but the Aspect bested him, his head snapped off and wings torn apart. Thus was the end of Krayn.

But Muldred was nowhere to be found, neither were the two elves. The Aspect looked around in question, blinded by the strikes and roars of Krayn.

Seizing the opportunity, Caravir flew out of the shadows and upon the Aspect, ramming his horns into the Aspect's weakened scales, digging his beak into the heart of the Aspect.

Blood gushed out of his wounds like a torrent, fuming and smoking. As it entered Caravir's eyes, he groaned in pain and was blinded, but still persisted on.

At last the Aspect bested him too, but ere he could land the final blow, Muldred approached from the sky and struck him with the most powerful psionic blast he could muster: his eyes glowed blue, the air between him and the Aspect simmered, and it produced a reverberating sound unlike any they had ever heard before.

That was it: Morthaur's strength had begun to falter, his wings were torn apart and scales shattered. Giving in, the Aspect plummeted into the earth below, creating a tremor which could be heard a hundred miles away.

As the corpse of the Aspect turned to dust, burning away in the holiest fires, his daemons followed, ending the battle and the invasion altogether.

Vil and Mey landed on the far side of the battlefield, amidst the cheer of their soldiers, joining in with the partying crowds.

"Finally, it is done," said Vil, "the war is over, and Morthaur has been diminished. Come away, Mey . . . we have won."