After subduing the orc race, the Dragon Legion left the skies above the orc camp and continued flying south.
To the south lay the human kingdoms of the central region, where the climate was mild and the land fertile.
The currents stirred by beating wings swept dust across the wasteland, stretching from the Northern Territory all the way to the southern horizon.
The three ancient dragons flew at the very front, clearing the way.
Each beat of the red dragon's wings refracted a dark crimson glow beneath the sunlight, like frozen flames.
The golden dragon drifted in and out of the clouds, its reflective scales resembling a moving golden ridge.
The emerald dragon flew along the flank, the green at its wingtips especially vivid beneath the gray-white sky.
Thousands of dragons followed behind in a loose formation, like a flowing mountain range cutting across the heavens.
Lynn stood atop the Chaos Dragon's back, surrounded by Fallen Angels and Graywing.
The hem of his robe fluttered in the wind, its dark purple fabric plated with a layer of golden light.
That light spilled from the angels' wings, falling upon Lynn and flowing along the folds of his robes.
The cities at the borders of the human kingdoms were the first to spot the dragons.
The sentries atop the walls first noticed something strange in the distant sky. A shadow was spreading from the north, blotting out the gray-white daylight.
He saw that the shadow was not a storm cloud, but wings that covered the sky and sun.
Countless wings flew in from afar like a migrating flock of birds, only far larger.
The sentry's body went completely rigid. His mouth opened to sound the alarm, but the horn slipped from his hand, struck the battlement with a dull thud, rolled a