Days later, they were flying to the Northern Lair, as scheduled, when a freak storm came upon them.

The sky burned black and green, a roiling mass of clouds and electricity. The two black dragons powered through the gusts that threatened to down them. Their task was clear, their mission imperative. They had to make it through the storm to their destination. Turning back was no longer an option. They were too far into the storm.

Lightning arced from cloud to cloud, barely missing the twin black dragons as they darted to and fro, flying as they'd never flown before. The elder of the two—by minutes only—cried out as a jolt of electricity rode up his left leg and through his entire body. His brother came to his aid immediately, only to be hit by the same bolt of lightning, traveling from the cloud, through the first black dragon, arcing into the second and back to into the angry black and green clouds.

Time ceased to exist as the two dragons were tossed into a vortex and spun. Sky became earth, and earth became sky. Over and over they tumbled, each certain the hard landing to come might be their very last. Their massive wings beat franticly, trying to regain some equilibrium, but neither of the two dragons could discern what was up and what was down as they were pulled and stretched by currents greater than even their own immense strength.



Darius came awake in the middle of a forest. One wing was badly damaged, bloodied and torn undoubtedly from his trip through the leafy canopy. Looking upward, he could see the hole he'd made on his way down. He craned his long black neck to seek a similar pattern. His brother had to be nearby somewhere, but the tr...