[Next Day.]
[The South Pole.]
WHOOSH!!!
The wind screamed, a cacophony of frozen fury, but it was easily sliced apart by three colossal shapes. Three huge dragons—one crimson red, one bone white, and one obsidian black—dominated the grey sky. Each beast was five times the size of a trailer, their scales glistening with frost as they shot into the air storm, heading south with incredible speed.
Sitting atop the heads of these mythical beasts were the First, Second, and Third Ghosts of the organization.
"There is something I want to say."
Patricia's voice was barely a whisper against the gale, but her mana carried it clearly. She pulled her cloak tighter, shivering not just from the biting cold that seemed to bypass her mana barrier, but from a deeper dread.
"What is it?" The Leader asked. He stood statue-still on the head of the black dragon, his mask betraying no emotion, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on the horizon.
