Because there are enemies, and there are enemies, as we roar and clash, and battle throughout the hall. As the fight rages, Jarl Alexander Christensen coordinates massive attacks from his own dark crimson, black, and gold Bone Magic, plus his guards.
Because I recognize he is a Bone Mage now, in hiding with his insanely powerful magic, just like Ström. It’s no wonder the Jarl’s power feels like a vampire.
And now we’re fighting with him, despite everything I thought might happen today.
As Mikkel roars and hammers back a volley of shimmering, strangewhite-black Bloodspears thrust in our direction now from Emil, I can feel how desperately he wants to go Wraith. Though we have to fight Emil right now as one of the main conspirators behind the Black Dragon’s rampage and a primary Bloodmate of Litha’s, Mikkel still needs to fight his Jarl for everything that’s been done to him all his life.
Mikkel’s found his inner goodness now, however, and it’s producing a war inside him deeper than before, preventing him from going ballistic as his Wraith. As Lærke roars also, conflicted about backing up the Jarl’s forces against Emil’s, I feel their frustration and terrible, twisting agony.
All of us know a clash with the Jarl has to wait, though, as the twins froth at the mouth to get a piece of the Jarl of Copenhagen, while fighting their old mentor instead. It’s an impossible situation for them, as Emil’s massive dragon-energy goes roaring through the hall, beyond vicious.
Everyone’s shifted, but no one’s blasted through the ceiling and taken to the skies yet; vivid crimson-black and gold runes seethe throughout the hall, giving the Jarl’s side, and us, the advantage for now.
And we need it, as the fighting careens everywhere, vicious and wild. It’s out-of-control as all the Jarl’s runes in this hall push us.
The bone-deep exhaustion my drakes and I were experiencing just minutes ago has been cleverly hidden by those ancient runes covering the roof, walls, and floor. It’s not an energy boost, but like a lance-sharp concentration of whatever we have left—it feels like an insane high now as I fight with the coordinated energy of me and my drakes, plus Lærke.
I know this fight is do or die; never in my life have I been so sure of that, as I feel the very last of my power concentrated in every roll, dodge, and strike. Because if we don’t win, and quick, I know these dire runes all around will kill me; they’re meant to make a dragon guarding this hall give everything they’ve got left to protect it, no matter what.
The Jarl has given my drakes and I this blessing and curse along with his own people, as I feel my connection to my drakes roar wide open. We’re in it to win it, and that knowledge floods my veins like pure cocaine now as I give my all.
To stop this drake who has resurrected the Black Dragon—for good.
Our fighting is furious and wild, though it remains inside the building. The pillars and floor take serious damage from the wild magic blasting around the space, but it’s clear this battle can’t escape the hall, thanks to the runes.
Though Emil and his strongest dragons try to pool their energy now into a single strike from Emil to blast out the roof and end the Jarl’s rune work, that strike goes haywire and only ricochets back, right into the marble floor.
That blast was so hard, Emil’s dragons are on their asses now in a tangled heap as the Jarl and his guards, plus us, roar in. The Jarl’s people are good, boosted the fuck up like myself and my drakes, and the Jarl’s lithe black, blood-red, and gold drake vicious to the max.
As the Jarl slashes enemies to ribbons with incredible volleys of Bloodlances, Emil’s side pulls back into a hard knot in the middle of the hall. They’re outnumbered, many falling unconscious to the floor now with dire wounds bleeding them out, but ancient Blood Dragons die hard.
And Emil has something to fight for, as his magnificent white and black drake breaks free now, tearing through the hall on the Jarl’s talons, trying to personally take out Jarl Alexander Christensen.
Emil’s drakes and drakainas are no joke either. Insane with skills we modern Blood Dragons would kill for, they fight in a hard knot in the center of the space.
Mikkel roars as he and Lærke break free from the melee to chase Emil now, spewing their poisonous chartreuse magic at him. It’s fierce and bloody, as Bjorn, Ström, Baldur, and I also break free to chase after Emil and take him out.
Both sides are wearing out now from the fast, furious fighting, however; everyone sports gaping talon-rips and wounds from the close conflict with minimal flying space in the hall, not to mention the wild, nasty magic hammering all around.
Bodies litter the hall, some not breathing, as dragons from Emil’s sidefinally die and some guards of the Jarl’s pay the ultimate price for the dangerous fighting-high the hall’s runes gave them.
I’m feeling it now as my heart rate spikes in my chest, dizzy spots flashing before my eyes as a deathlike euphoria roars through me.
It pushes me to fight on, though. At last, we’ve got Emil cornered in one high vault, alone with none of his people. Emil’s black and white drake is fighting hard, hammering furious volleys of Bloodspears and spiked mace-nets at us, but our group outnumbers him.
He’s ancient and has the fighting skills that go with it, but we’re all born fighters, as my drakes and the Jarl retaliate. As Mikkel sprays a nasty jet of acid, Emil misses a block with his Bloodshield. That jet of acid scorches right into Emil’s left eye; he roars, shaking the entire hall with furious power, as Lærke darts in just after her twin—scalding acid into Emil’s right eye, as well.
That’s the strike that does it. Emil’s down, crashing to the floor as the Jarl gets a terrible spiked Bloodnet around him fast, pinning his wings so he can’t fly. I cinch my own spiked Bloodnet around Emil’s throat, bolstered by twin roars of power from Bjorn and Ström, choking him out with our bound power.
Baldur backs us up, terrible now in his bright rage as he floods us with his incredible light, to give our everything to best Emil. Lærke darts in, slashing Emil with her talons and trying to eviscerate his belly, and I see how she’s gone for his balls.
Emil thunders in pain, barrel-rolling as he thrashes her off, only to have Mikkel surge in and rip at his throat with a nasty bite, spewing acid from his gullet. Emil’s roaring and thrashing as my net and the Jarl’s truss him up harder, tighter, pinning him and making it hard to move now.
The twins both add their mind- and body-paralyzing magics to the mix now, restraining Emil further; it seems like we have him, as even his loyal forces fight without heart now, their leader ensnared.
A towering roar of triumph is already bubbling up in my throat—when Emil slaps one big, taloned hand to his heart. I have a moment to seethe strange black, gold, and onyx ring on his dragon-finger power up with a deathly crimson-violet light, ugly and terrible.
Then Emil roars with insane basso notes and howling overtones like all the demons of the earth, as a massive surge of magic is powered by that ring.
