Pyron’s gaze swept through the landscape. He focused on the direction from which the golden sword had come and covered his eyes with one hand. His lips slowly twisted.

  “Ha… ha… haha… hahaha!”

  Pyron released a fit of diabolical laughter toward the mages behind him before it finally died out into a chilling silence. He glared at the sky, cursing as the corner of his lips dropped in bitterness. Ever since the fall of Stafford, things haven’t been unfolding as he hoped.

  “How?” he asked in annoyance. “How is it that every moment we spend waiting, something beyond our expectations occurs?” He slowly turned toward the mages who followed him. “Well…? Doesn’t any of you have an answer?”

  One mage kept his head down, unable to lift it as he grabbed onto his green robe with golden accents. “We have no words, Elder.”

  Pyron nodded once, then twice, gritting his teeth in frustration. His hands slammed into the garnet desk by his side, shattering it in one blow as chunks of stone flew into the air. He resisted the urge to bash the man’s skull in and gouge out his eyes. Right now, they needed every single mage to fight against the incoming raid. Yet even though this was the case, a trace of anger burned within his chest. He grabbed a golden, cylindrical, handheld telescope, pointing it toward the wyverns.

  Then, his gaze narrowed, landing on Tucker. The watchman who stood at the forefront of the invading party. The very man who had been a constant thorn in his plans. No matter how much he wanted to forget, he couldn’t because it was that very same watchman who had destroyed his golem, taken his arm.

  He stared at the metallic left arm. The throbbing pain reminded him that he was still alive, filled with a purpose to uphold. Yet now he knew, in order for them to achieve their plans. The watchman leading the enemy operation had to die.

  The sound of footsteps striking the marble tiles entered the Elder’s ears. A dull metallic noise pulled his attention. Pyron slowly gazed toward a knight approaching him, with the mages parting ways. The pitch-black armor with runic inscriptions pulsed with a faint crimson as the red plume at the top of his helm swayed ever so slightly.

  “Hemlock…” Pyron focused on the knight with a hint of annoyance. “When did you arrive?”

  The knight met the Elder’s gaze. “Hours before your little catastrophe occurred.”

  Pyron scoffed. “So, what is it you want then? Surely you didn’t predict that such an event would occur?”

  “I didn’t,” Hemlock agreed. “But now that I’m here, I have an obligation to assist in the matter.”

  The Elder scowled before glaring at the other mages. “Prepare the teleportation platforms. I want the artifact secure and ready for departure.”

  One mage trembled. “About that, Elder… it seems like we can’t channel mana into the devices.”

  “What…?” Pyron slowly exhaled. His eyes swept through the row of green-robed battle mages. “Is it the dwarves?” he asked, cracking his knuckles. “Are they still interfering with our teleportation platform?”

  The mage nodded nervously. “But it’s not just the dwarves interfering with us. Minutes before, our spare teleportation device had been receiving an influx of requests from an unknown source.”

  The Elder’s expression hardened. “The Order…” he mumbled while clenching his jaw. “Somehow the Everheart forces have also figured us out, and now we can’t change the sequence of our devices while they are locked in place.”

  Pyron slowly chuckled. “How? How?!” He swept his arm across the surface of the broken table, flinging the objects as they rattled on the floor. “How is it possible for these bastards to uncover so much about us?!”

  None of them answered.

  He glanced at Hemlock and signaled for him to move. “I want all anti-air defenses primed and ready. Hemlock, take your men and intercept the fools on the ground level. They’ll try to breach through the lower levels.” Pyron turned to the mages. “Set up defensive positions on the upper levels of the tower. Rain hell upon those fools for thinking they could assault the Emerald Tower and get away with it.”

  “Will do,” Hemlock replied, turning toward the exit.

  The mages all nodded in response and immediately began their work. Pyron stood on the balcony of the highest floor, staring at the incoming party. His gaze then drifted to the marble statue of a carved woman. A goddess of their realm. Her long blonde hair and white robes seemed to flutter in a nonexistent wind, and in her left hand, raised in the air, was a stone sword pointing to the heavens.

  Yet even for a figure that promised victory, Pyron felt a tingle in his fingertips. He stared at the faint crack on the white marble statue’s arm that held the sword one last time. His eyes lingered on the goddess, and with a bitter smile, he turned away.

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  The wind barrier tore through the resistance, pushing against their bodies. With Yuri leading the giant wyverns carrying the Iron Coffins, a squadron of smaller wyvern riders guarded their group. They took a wedge formation, flying deeper into enemy lines. Heavy pressure pressed on the shoulders of those in the aerial division.

  Blood trickled into the floating bodies of water hovering above their heads. The squadron stared at the reality before them, focusing on the floating islands as they crossed beneath the shadows. Their eyes scanned the rigid stone surfaces. The crumbling rocks fell into the abyss below, and the black crystal spirals released a gut-wrenching hum.

  Tucker narrowed his eyes. The density of mana in the air was revolting. A thick stench of death followed them as they soared through the dark sky. They had made their presence well known in the area; there wasn’t a chance in hell that Pyron didn’t know they had arrived.

  “Steady, men!” Yuri's voice tore through the roaring wind.

  Every wyvern kept close, not breaking from their formation as they ventured past the floating islands. The shadows loomed over Tucker’s head. His eyes were drifting between the rivers of water trailing to the sky. A crackle tore through the landscape.

  Tucker’s gaze darted to the side, and a furious shout erupted from his chest. “Incoming!”

  The wyvern riders snapped to attention, casting a glance to the side. A magic circle manifested from far below, and the men immediately pulled on the reins of their mounts. The wings of the scaled beasts thundered against the currents, with each one taking evasive maneuvers.

  The wind contractors behind Tucker lent their spirit essence, conjuring another thread of wind. With all of their might, they sent it to the wyvern riders and the Iron Coffins behind them. One after another, the large metal containers flared with an assortment of auras, strengthening the integrity of the structure.

  Every single one of them braced for impact.

  In moments far too quick for most to comprehend, a ray of light lanced toward the squadron, ripping past the lead wyvern and detonating in the clouds behind it. The shockwave from the spell slammed into the formation a heartbeat later, throwing the riders hard against their saddles.

  The sky erupted in a cascade of spells.

  Bolts of condensed magic arced upward in staggering volleys. Crackling spheres, spiraling beams, and jagged spears of light burned through the clouds and wind alike. The blood rivers evaporated from the heat, with one spell clipping one of the wyvern fighter’s wingtips, shearing gray scales and sending the creature rolling into the darkness below.

  Tucker watched as it shrieked, desperately trying to prevent itself from spiraling out of control, but it was already too late. Several more spells raced into the air and tore into its flesh. Blood and screams followed, but Tucker couldn’t do a thing.

  Yuri gritted his teeth and roared. “Evasive maneuvers and ascend!”

  The wyverns scattered instantly.

  Massive wings folded and snapped open as the beasts dove, climbed, and banked at impossible angles. The clean lines of their approach dissolved into what could only be described as controlled chaos. Riders leaned into their mounts, hauling on reins and digging boots into harness hooks while the sky became a killing field.

  A fire burst detonated where a wyvern had been a second earlier, the heat washing over Tucker’s back. He felt his hands tighten instinctively against the large leather saddle as his body lurched with the sharp rise, wind howling in his ears as they ascended beyond the floating oceans of blood.

  Another spell screamed past his left side, close enough to bleach the color from the air. He ducked instinctively as a ribbon of frost magic carved through the space above his head, flash-freezing the mist into shattered crystals that rained down like glass.

  All the riders desperately climbed higher into the sky. The gigantic wyverns, with no choice left, used the Iron Coffins as makeshift shields, tanking the spears of light they couldn’t dodge. Energy dissipated along the surface with the runes flaring in response.

  “We’ll try to get you as close as possible!” Yuri declared.

  The wyvern riders close by released a battle cry filled with resolve. They corkscrewed through the air with their long tails snapping for balance as riders enveloped their mounts with aura to reinforce their bodies. Just enough to deflect the spells scraping against the beasts’ scales, but never enough to survive a direct strike.

  A wyvern fighter flew lower than the rest, providing cover for the ones carrying the Iron Coffins. Tucker glanced to the side, watching as a bright white light consumed another. The beast’s roar cut short, leaving behind only an empty sky where it had been. While the one that flew beneath the carriers shielded them with its own body as spiraling beams tore through the scales and fibers of muscle.

  Tucker clenched his jaw. Their numbers were dwindling, yet the escorts were fulfilling their roles. Each gave their lives for every inch of ground they crossed. Yuri remained steadfast, not batting an eye at the men he lost. Not out of the coldness of his heart, but because they had a greater purpose to fulfill. With no other choice, the leader of the Wyvern Knights gritted his teeth and pulled the reins to force them to climb higher.

  “Take cover behind the islands!” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir!” the wyvern knights responded.

  They continued their ascent as Tucker continued to scan the surroundings. His companion soared with them but had long since vanished. If Gale had died, then he would have certainly felt the spirit connection between them get severed. But that wasn’t the case.

  From the corner of his eye, he could see magic circles flickering for brief moments before completely fading from existence. Tucker shut his eyes to share his vision with his companion, and he couldn’t believe it. His hawk, along with several other spirits, was slicing through the air, taking out the defenseless mages firing at them from below and destroying the anti-air weapons locking onto their position.

  Gale’s talons tore the jugular of one mage, blood splattering against its brown feathers, along with many other avian creatures doing the same. One after another, they raced through the weaving stone walls, hunting the unsuspecting.

  “Enemies from above!”

  Tucker’s eyes shot open to Yuri’s voice. He immediately glared above them as they were just about to fly past one floating island. The looming shadows drew closer, and Max released a thunderous battle cry at the figures leaping off the surface of the islands. Several golden swords wedged themselves into the islands as stone golems rained down on them.

  Their bodies crumbled beneath the sheer might of the Lionheart knight’s aura, and Tucker, without missing a beat, channeled his spirit essence into his sword, drawing it from its scabbard and slicing the air as a torrent of wind blew the stone creatures away from their formation.

  He focused on the mass of stone raining down upon them. There were hundreds of stone silhouettes descending toward them, with the men standing on the giant leather saddles with swords raised. Tucker clutched his blade, glaring at the golems that continued to rush at them with the same ferocity he had seen before.