Death was acceptable, but it was foolish not to try to prevent it. Lyra knew danger was ahead, but if there were a chance to win, she would take it. This was the reason she went ahead to cross this dimension, but this dragon was beyond all of them.
Before Lyra could give the order to retreat, a wave of palpable heat washed over them, a stark and welcome contrast from the consuming chill emanating from the dragon.
Standing on a lower outcrop, seemingly unconcerned by the mile-long dragon above him or the armed warriors below, was a man.
Or something wearing the shape of one.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, clad in simple, dark travel leathers that seemed to drink the light. His hair was a wild, unruly mane of living flame, flickering through shades of crimson, gold, and orange, casting dancing shadows across a face that was both handsome and ageless.
