Revan's breath crystalized under his helm as he stared into the horizon. The setting sun sent its last glimmers of the frozen forest below. He watched as they silently drifted across the clouds.

  Beneath him, Myrrathil stirred like a distant thunder. Her dark wings stretched wide, as she carried him softly. She did not speak, but Revan could feel her thoughts in the back of his mind.

  "Cold air, the sky's fire is fading."

  Dracaron's roar shook the sky, grabbing the knights' attention. His bronze scales shimmering in the light of the low sun. Atop him Ser Kaelen raised a fist.

  Revan nodded to the silent command. "Myrrathil," he murmured in his mind, twisting the reins around his wrists tightly and leaned forward, "Down."

  She obeyed silently. Her wings tucked tightly to her sides as she folded into a dive. The wind exploded as they plummeted.

  Revan breathed, its echoes bouncing in his helm. His eyes narrowed to the strong winds, but were open enough for him to calculate the fall. The white trees shot at them with an unnerving speed. His breath hitched as he pulled back on the reins.

  Myrrathil's wings shot out, evening them out, the tallest trees barely brushing against her claws.

  Ser Kaelen lifted his hand once again, circling it.

  "Myrrathil," Revan commanded, "Ground."

  She let out a soft, short growl as she followed Dracaron who circled an opening in the forest. Her wind blew the snow off branches as she set down with a ground shaking stomp next to Dracaron, who landed first.

  Kelegon followed, then last was Licaron.

  "We make camp here," Ser Kaelen commanded, studying the surroundings one last time before unstrapping himself from the saddle.

  The rest of the company obeyed silently, unstrapping themselves.

  Revan sat for a moment, petting Myrrathil gently. "Good flight," he said.

  “Good rider,” she replied.

  Revan smirked. Then pulled on the straps, releasing his legs from the saddle.

  "Dracaron," Ser Kaelen said, "Let this frozen land see your wrath."

  The dragon inhaled deeply, sparks crackling from its teeth before a wave of fire blasted onto the snow covered ground. The snow melted instantly as the fire created a dry, warm patch for them.

  Ser Kaelen petted the dragon with a flat smile. "Thank you,” he said to his dragon, “Make yourselves comfortable. A night in the Frostmarch is not something to take lightly.”

  Air left Revan’s mouth as vapor as a shiver shot down his spine. The cold bit at him like a thousand needles piercing into his skin. His southern upbringing never prepared him for harsh environments.

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  A deep hum started as he could feel Myrrathil expand her chest, filling it with fire. Engulfing the air around her with her heat.

  “Thank you,” he said in his mind, hopping off his saddle.

  “Human bones, freeze fast. Myrrathil, knows.”

  The knights moved, each having their own tasks to set up camp. A bonfire was lit, tents were raised, rations handed out. They joined together around the fire, each a dark hood pulled over their slim helms.

  Revan sat on a log, sword laid gently over a knee as he slid a whetstone down the blade. He muttered to himself under his breath. Quiet enough for the other knights to not be able to hear it, but loud enough to hear for those he wanted to.

  “We are half a day’s flight from Galendir, and the Ice Elves are down to their last men. The siege has lasted over three weeks and food is not something easily acquired in the Frostmarch, even for Ice Elves. We must act with haste and ferocity if we are to resolve this matter in time,” Ser Kaelen said, with a voice laced with authority.

  “The Ice Elves,” Ser Rennick Cardoval scoffed, taking a bite of salted pork under his helm. Then with a full mouth he asked, “Why is the king so interested to aid those wildlings?”

  Ser Fredderick Hamlet’s eyes flared up under his helm. “You will be cautious when you speak of the king.”

  “It is alright, Ser Fredderick. Ser Rennick is just lacking the information to understand,” Ser Kaelen said raising a palm, “The king wants to keep a good standing with the Ice Elves as they control the Frostmarch, and are the only ones with the means to protect the southern kingdoms from what lays north, in the Icefields.”

  Revan lifted an eyebrow under his helm, still facing his sword, but keeping his ears on their conversation.

  “Our dragons can obliterate anything in the Icefields, we don’t need those savage Elves,” Ser Rennick said.

  Ser Fredderick let out a sigh. “Even our dragons can’t withstand the cold of the Icefields, you fool.”

  “Ser Fredderick is right, despite his hasty choice of words,” Ser Kaelen said, stoking the fire.

  “Bickering, humans,” Myrrathil hummed.

  A smirk formed under Revan’s helm. “Always.”

  “I fear your resentment for the Ice Elves is something you will have to endure, Ser Rennick,” Ser Kaelen said, “By the order of the king, we must stabilize the Drogvar threat here in the Frostmarch. To secure the Elves’ loyalty to the human crown, and to protect our people from the unknown threat in the north.”

  Ser Rennick scoffed under his breath.

  “Ser Revan, you are awfully quiet about this matter. Do you disagree with the king’s order as well?” Ser Kaelen asked.

  “He is always quiet, Ser Kaelen. The boy barely speaks, some say he’s a mute, or lack the balls to speak up to his superiors,” Ser Rennick said, shooting a low glare at Revan.

  “I am no mute,” Revan answered simply.

  “Then what do you think of the king’s order?” Ser Kaelen asked again, softer this time.

  Revan finally raised his head from his sword. He set down the whetstone and lifted his sword up to his eyes, scanning the blade’s edges.

  “The Ice Elves are in a dire situation. They need help, and in turn they help us. It is the only sensible course of action,” Revan said, sliding his sword back into his scabbard and setting it down next to him.

  “Well said, Young Revan,” Ser Kaelen approved.

  “Well spoken, with few words,” Myrrathil murmured.

  The sun had vanished as the night’s winter winds blew through the forest with a hollow howl. The dragons encircled the knights around the bonfire, emitting their heat into the air around them.

  “Now,” Ser Kaelen said after a long silence, “Get your rest, knights, tomorrow will be a hard day for us all. But the hardest for the Drogvar. Get some sleep, meditate, and remember your purpose. We Emberborne are not strong because of our dragons, but because of our blood and mind.”

  The knights all bowed their heads, accepting the command in silence before they took their leave. All entered their designated tents, and set down their black plate armor. Each of them placed themselves in the center of their tents and sat down on their knees, palms gently on their thighs.

  “By flame I am unmade. By fire I am reborn. I am the vessel, the voice, the vow. I do not command the dragon, I burn with it. May my soul kindle the skies, may my life end before honor breaks, and when I fall… Let my ash mark the path for others to rise.”