Milius felt as though he were sinking through the ground, into thick, impenetrable darkness; his breath had frozen in his throat, his eyes wide though they were burning from wind and tears. He gazed down at his mother’s face — her face which looked more lined and strained than he had seen it in a while, as though she had been forgetting to take her potion again. He could not believe it — he could not grasp it — each time his mind tried to absorb the cruel reality of the scene before him, he felt as though a cold fist had clamped itself around his heart, and that the stinging chilliness it wrought was coursing through his veins, turning his blood to ice.

He could hear nothing; his ears were as empty as Minerva’s light grey eyes, wet with tears like his own, though blank as the crystalline marbles he would steal from her bowls to play with friends in the past. A soft, twinkling light caught his eyes as he peered down at her, and his hand moved automatically to her throat, laced with the gold chain of an ornate golden locket.

He pulled it gently from around her neck and stared down into it, and tears began to stream in earnest now: in one window was a picture of a much younger Minerva, her hair long, dark, and sleek, sitting beside a tall, brown-haired man with green eyes that seemed to twinkle even in the faded photograph, and though both were smiling up at the camera, the man's bulky hand rested atop the forehead of a small child, perched in Minerva’s arms, with a shock of dark hair and pale eyes. It was a picture of his family, when his father had still been with them, when Minerva was still healthy and vibrant.

And in the next was a scene of more recent times, an older and wearier-looking Minerva, holding another baby, standing over three smiling youths: Sirius, in the middle, tall and blonde and burly; Milius beside him, shorter and smaller; and on his right, Regulus, pale, with long hair and clear blue eyes, alight with genuine happiness.

His throat constricted — a howl of grief was roaring in his chest, desperate to be let out —

And then another elephantine crash sounded from behind him, jerking him out of his reverie. He looked around, wiping his eyes, and he saw the others, staring up at the great, spiraling mass of darkness hovering before them in the sky, screeching animatedly. It expanded, billowing outwards, and Milius was forcibly reminded of Phontus, in the shape of a gargantuan squid.

At the front of the group he saw Sirius, his light blonde hair oddly dull in the darkness. He thrust his right arm — the arm that Milius knew bore his skull ring — out towards the dark mass, and there was a flare of green light.

A funnel of wind seemed to open in the ring, pulling the huge cloud of darkness towards it with an incredible force — but the cloud was resisting. With another grating shriek, tendrils as thick as tree trunks rained out of the sky like meteorites. The entire area went up in thick plumes of dust, punctuated by several gigantic crashes, and around him Milius could hear the ground being ripped apart. But as he opened his eyes and looked up, he saw that everyone was still standing before him, perfectly all right, though looking bewildered. And as they looked around, they saw it: an enormous stone dome erected all around them; there were several huge chunks blown out of the hole, and through the gaps they saw an outer layer of emerald wind — next second, the entire structure had collapsed, and they looked up to see five enormous figures hurtling towards them through the night: the dragons had returned.

Cerea and Vrydius were in front, looking down at them, but Lumeus, Aleia, and Verdona veered off towards Alcyeoneus, and torrents of water, fire, and lightning streaked through the darkness, pelting against his shapeless form.

“I don't understand,” Ariana said suddenly. “What happened to Malidreus, then?”

“Malidreus?” a callous voice called through the darkness. They turned to see the three Void Hunters, gathered in front of them. The one who had hit Sirius earlier was the speaker. “The dragon of darkness? Oh yes, we saw him on our way here, but I can assure you he didn't seem to have any interest in coming here. The earlier Dragonknights thought that they had erased all memories of our Master and that beast — how wrong they were. They have no idea of the kind of power that we possess, and neither do you. But I imagine you have some idea now.”

“You created a false image of Malidreus, to lure the dragons away,” Shakil said, his voice trembling with fury.

The Hunter laughed again. “And a damn good one it was! I wasn't sure it would work, I mean, they're supposed to be brethren, aren't they? But they didn't even notice he wasn't real! But then again, family can be very surprising sometimes, can't they?” His eyes settled maliciously onto Milius as he spoke, and Milius felt a rush of anger. “But we don't have to pretend anymore,” the Hunter continued, “because our Master, after all this time, has returned!”

His words trailed off in a terrible splutter; thick, glistening ropes of blood fell from his mouth as he coughed and retched, and he looked down in horror. A sword hilt was blossoming from his tangle of dark robes — a hilt embedded with a glittering emerald. Ariana, incandescent with rage, had flung Stormpyre directly into the Hunter's chest. He looked up at her, his eyes rolled upwards into his head, and then he crashed to the floor.

“EREBUS!” his allies screamed in unison.

Shakil and Sirius made to step forward, but the Hunters launched themselves upon their fallen comrade and dissolved into darkness, leaving Stormpyre clattering upon the ground. Demus tapped his walking stick and it flew through the air and Ariana caught it, just as a horrible screech rent the air.

They looked up; Lumeus was speeding to the ground like a violet comet, seemingly unable to regain flight —

Vrydius swooped down past him, turned to face him as he plummeted ever closer, and a huge green cloud billowed out suddenly between them; Lumeus crashed against the cloud with a loud whump! and let out a feeble croak almost as though of thanks: the cloud had arrested his descent.

“This isn't good,” Calder said. “The dragons will be overpowered soon, we must flee — now!”

Milius, whose eyes had been fixed on Calder’s back, looked around as a figure knelt down beside him, and he saw Sirius, his handsome face streaked with dirt and tears, holding his blade by the hilt towards him.

“I'm sorry — Milius, I'm so sorry —" he said, his voice cracked and hoarse.

“LOOK OUT!” Shakil suddenly shouted, before Milius could speak. Milius looked up and saw, with a rush of terror, actual meteorites, great, blazing balls of fire, raining down through the sky as Alcyeoneus increased his efforts against the great steeds. One crashed into the ground just ahead of them, and a jagged shard of rock came pelting out of nowhere. Again, time seemed to slow, and Milius followed its movement as it whistled through the air and sank itself into Cole’s chest. He spun with the force, rippling through the air, and clattered to the ground.

“NO!” Hestia and Frederick screamed.

They made to hurry to his side, but stopped quite abruptly. Cole was already stirring. Groaning and wincing, he sat up, his hand still fastened on the hilt of Gaiaden, and they watched in awe as the ground at his feet shifted, and a pool of dirt streamed over his armour and covered the injured area. It hardened for a fleeting moment, then the dirt crumbled back to the ground, the shard along with it, and they saw that the area beneath it was completely healed.

“What the —?”

“LOOK!” Ariana was pointing at Alcyeoneus, who, it seemed, had had enough. The tendrils of darkness were compressing, pressing in on itself, forming some kind of ball, and the dragons had frozen in midair, looking shocked.

Basil gasped. “It's going to explode!”

“What?”

But it seemed Basil was right. The black sphere expanded outwards, and a great flood of darkness filled the space between ground and sky, pouring over the land. The dragons turned and bolted towards the ground, moving as fast as they could away from the apocalyptic gush spilling out behind them, blotting out the stars, the moon, the entire night sky —

“Hurry!” Demus shrieked as the dragons landed. Everyone clambered atop the dragons, shrieking in terror, as the wall of darkness bundled up behind them, flowing towards them. But Milius didn't move — he was trying to pull Minerva forward, even though deep down he knew that it was hopeless, knew that even if the darkness rushed over her that she could not feel it — but he couldn't leave her. He felt hands, large and firm, on his shoulders, and realized that Sirius had pulled him away from Minerva and was pushing him towards the frantically waiting Lumeus.

“No! NO!”

Calder reached down, seized him by the scruff of his neck, and pulled him up, restraining him with the strength of a much younger man as he watched Sirius dart back to Minerva's side, heave her lifeless form from the ground, and settle atop Lumeus as well. The five great dragons launched themselves skywards, pressing as fast as they could as the wall of darkness, rising from floor to sky, charged after them.

He saw Hestia sobbing over on top of Cerea, whose richly brown mane of leaves was flying behind her as she soared onwards. And he saw Cole, who looked terrified, gaping into the flood of darkness behind them — and then he saw Frederick. His face was quite blank, but Milius imagined him wearing that unpleasant smirk that would force itself across his face when something remotely exciting happened around him. And fury burst in the pit of his stomach, gushing up like lava, scorching his insides.

And from the bag on his back, he seized the wreath of gold and took aim.

Frederick’s eyes swiveled onto him as he flung, and widened in horror at the oncoming projectile; it connected with his forehead and Frederick stumbled — then the force of the dragon's slipstream unseated him. He soared backwards like a launched stone, and his scream of terror was lost to their ears as he sank into the tide of blackness.

The oncoming rush ceased as abruptly as Frederick’s scream, and the darkness began to recede, and everyone saw, for they had all looked back in shock as Frederick had fallen, a vast emptiness where land had so recently stretched: a seemingly endless crater, dug so deep into the earth that they could see the beginnings of magma, trailing all the way back to the tomb.

The four dragons continued forward, and their riders gazed out behind them, watching as dark shapes flickered upwards through the chasm like enormous bats, as streams of brilliant blue energy coursed along in their wake, heading towards the one who had freed them. As Milius turned back to the scene ahead of them, he knew, even without seeing it himself — Alcyeoneus had risen again.