Obsidian pebbles were cutting the Darkling as he stumbled through the ashen plains in front of Karn’Arak. He wore a cloak of dark red scales while his head carried the empty remains of Darkscales head. It was not a lot of protection and all still bloody, yet all he could get. Beyond his arm he leaned on a broken piece of wood, robbed from the few wooden doors inside Karn’Arak. Once a rider had decorated it with the runes of the Bladelands. Fishbones and even a pearl had been dangling from it, but the beast didn’t care. He only needed to follow Aru’Gal. To stop the man he once called brother, and to save the last family he had left.

  The pain in his leg was cursing through his body into his head, but he continued. Slowly he stumbled one step after the other. Only a shadow in the grey winds of smoke and ash, a dark figure against the fires that burned through the mountains.

  It was his fault. He brought him the scroll and now the snake would use it to take it all. To sacrifice them all. From the smith, to the fishermen, to the yaks and their herders. And down to his sister.

  It disgusted him. For a man to be so weak to sacrifice others for his own strength. It was wrong. All so very wrong. And Aru’Gal should have known he didn’t need it. He was a snake and his poison was strong. He had won battles before, just never in a way that was worth any stories. But that was of no matter to a Khan. He should know what his victories meant for the clans and the north, not how much they would talk about his blade.

  Maybe it was the pain that cursed his mind, maybe it was the loom of death, but he soon saw himself in those words.

  But if anything it only meant he had to reach him. No matter the pain. He had to reach and stop him. To set things right again, to undo what he had done, and finally to earn his warriors death.

  He grinded his teeth as he stumbled on, the winds rose higher and more obsidian was flying by to cut into his skin. The scales protected him and Darkscales blood on it still carried warmth. It would take time to fade, such was a wyverns blood.

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  Still it would be cold once he would reach the mountain. And he would reach it. There was no if. He would reach it and kill Aru’Gal. No matter if ascended or not. He would drive an axe into his head, or a spear into his heart. If needed he would just use own hands and choke him to death.

  Afterall, it was all that was left to do. To fight and die. To save his sister and the clan and to finally rest among the ancestors. Next to his father and his wife. Next to Kara.

  Pain cursed through his head and forced tears out once more. But he continued. The winds circled and pushed against him, but he continued. He saw her face in his mind. Her smile, her anger and more than anything the last time he had seen her. She looked like a woman, not a girl back on the oak. “And I will beat you.” She declared back then. And all of his being wished that had been the way. What better end could a father wish for, than to be beaten by his own child? A proud warrior she would have been. Maybe she would have done what he never could and taken the path of Khan.

  He wanted to say a thousand things to the wind, in hopes she would listen. A thousand words that would mean so little but had to be spoken. Yet he shook his head and stumbled on. His mind had to be cast on the living. So did his words and his fury.

  To Mara and Aru’Gal. One to die, the other to live. It ached his heart to know she was in chains, but she was a traitor. Nothing could change it and she would face the consequences. He would never see harm be done to her yet there was a chance the clan would decide that her judgement would be among the ancestors. In death they would make the choice if she was worthy to be among them or be cast out into the night alone.

  He only hoped he would be gone by the day they would cast her to death.

  He missed his father. He missed his love and more than anything he missed little Kara. He wouldn’t be able to bear yet another pyre.

  The winds became harsher with the moment yet he stumbled on. The last bit of determination he could offer fuelled him. Hatred fueled him. He would reach the mountain, and Aru’Gal would die.