>>5709940He lays there, dying, contemplating how it all went wrong. His barrier was broken like gossamer, popped like a bubble in a stew of smoke and blood by the fury of the fire. It is a miracle that endured long enough to spare him immediate death, but his nerves are burned away, his charred bones exposed on his useless extremities. He cannot even feel the pain in his hands—all feeling has been consumed by the fire. Those who turned to illusion to obscure and save them were no luckier, he notices—the damned diadem, gift of that prodigal ‘son’ of his, empowered the Green Dragonborn to locate and eliminate them, which he did with glee and gusto.
>88The young ones—the nine Red Dragonborn hatchlings—joined him in tearing them apart and devouring them in a cannibalistic feast. Only the Silkscales of the harem were spared, but none of them so much as spared the Chaplain a downward glance as they fled after their mate-and-master, hoping to escape in his wake.
Is this how it ends? Not the slow death of an ancient empire in decline, not a final confrontation with the Gods of Light and their accursed spawn, but swallowed up by an Age of Darkness—an Age of Dragons—which he helped create, but can no longer even recognize? Must the new always destroy the old, to be born?
“You… Sseztlussth… And ‘Theral’, or whoever you are… If you fail, if our race perishes in yoru care… May your souls be consigned to oblivion.”
The Chaplain of the Northern Forward Base of the Reptilian Master Race—faithful servant of the Dark Gods for over a hundred years, exhales his final breath.
“Do not fail.”
He passes into a deeper darkness, far beyond the reach of light, deeper and further than ever he has known.
