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He had come this far and could go no further.

The cold glow of the runes filled the air with queer humming, and Galthorax no longer felt the sting of the flames as they roared up between him and the great serpent.

His mood was almost giddy, and if he was not so endlessly weary he might have laughed, trapped now between his will to protect his king and his want to be anywhere else. Yet he was nothing if not oathbound, and his axes were alive in his hands.

He would buy them time to slip away, safe in the overgrown wilderness that stretched so far and wide that even the infernal dragon might be swallowed up.

In the end he grinned, not bitterly, but in joy. It would be a glorious last stand, like he had always wanted.


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