A roll of thunder startled Ethan awake. Though it wasn’t truly thunder. There was no sound. No flash of lightning. Just a deep sense of pressure ringing through his soul.

Ethan gasped and stood. His father was talking in hushed tones with the Lead Ranger. Other Rangers kept watch over the breaks in the ring of fire, which still burned hot around them.

Distantly, the bells of the Palace and the Central Citadel continued to chime into the night.

The two young children were sitting up where they had curled around Bird Mask, rubbing sleep and fatigue from their eyes. They clung to each other as the Ranger picked himself up, standing guard over their trembling forms.

“Father,” Ethan whispered. “Can you—?”

“I feel it, too,” Edrick said, his pain and grief masked by a warrior’s focus. “Something is coming.”

“My Liege, we need to move towards shelter now—” the Ranger’s plea was cut off as a great mass of light ripped through the skies over head. The last dragon. It spiralled over the market, flailing in agitation as hundreds, thousands, of ferrifae swarmed its form.

As the dragon twisted and thrashed, the thunderous pressure in Ethan’s chest pressed the breath from his lungs. Glittering fins of light trailed through the sky, a monstrous aurora of flaring teals.

Ethan recognised it as the one that had chased him through the Palace.

The tiny lights of the ferrifae were flung into the dark, hurled away by the writhing force of the ghost. Yet they quickly spun, returning in their quest to rend the dragon apart.

Many of the fae lights had latched onto the dragon’s transparent flanks, tearing colours from its body and letting them fall to the earth like glittering rain. The colours sank through the stones of the market square and were gone.

The dragon roared without sound, spitting fire at the fae. But they were too numerous.

Ferrifae were flung towards their flaming haven, righting themselves with a twirl of mist before they fell into the fire. The Rangers sprang to form a tighter guard and Ethan retrieved the pot lid where it had been discarded to the ground. He readied himself to restart his drumming clamour, but a halting gesture from his father stilled him.

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Edrick was watching the dragon’s movements as it twisted lower, closer, sinking under the force of the ferrifae’s siren chorus.

The silent harmony swelled in Ethan’s chest, his heart thrumming to its ethereal rhythm. He felt dazed, lulled into a hazy sense of serenity.

“Now, Ethan,” his father commanded. Ethan swung his grandfather’s club against the iron, creating a jarring ruckus that rattled through his mind.

The chorus grew stronger as ever more ferrifae erupted from the cobbled earth, rising towards the dragon even as its shredded colours rained down.

Silver fire burned throughout the square, catching tents and stalls alight as the dragon breathed flames indiscriminately in its writhing panic.

“Get ready to flee towards the road!” Edrick commanded as the mass of light and colour sank lower and lower, flames spewing in frenetic arcs as the spectral beast fought its fate.

They turned themselves towards the roadside break in the fire, away from the markets. Fae lights were making their way into the market square from all directions, coasting through the streets and dancing from the mouths of laneways.

“Fuck!” Edrick cursed. “Forget that, we shelter here.”

Several of the fae lights were hurtled towards them, passing right through their shielding walls of flame. The ferrifae caught alight. One sped towards Ethan’s face, and he bunted it skywards with his pot lid. The other Rangers were doing the same, swinging at the flaming ghost lights with the flat edges of their clubs.

The rebounding ferrifae burned to nothing, sparking from sight like shooting stars.

As the dragon touched the ground, it released a final burst of silver flame.

“Drop!” Edrick yelled, and the whipping inferno passed over their heads as they threw themselves to the ground. Edrick shielded Ethan as Bird Mask shielded the younger children where they lay flat on the rough stones.

Ethan felt the thunder in his bones die away as the dragon was forced down and beneath the earth, the siren chorus fading as the ferrifae fell with it.

All was quiet but for the violent crackle of flames and collapsing debris.

After long, tense moments, Ethan felt his father’s weight ease as he stood. Ethan climbed to his feet and looked around. The market was ablaze, the fabric of tents burned away to reveal smouldering frames. In the hazy distance, Ethan glimpsed the charred figure of the fallen Ranger, and spun away from the sight.

The dragon was gone, the barest echo of its presence fading far below Ethan’s feet. There was not a ferrifae in sight.

The creeping light of dawn was glinting over the eastern buildings, the rising slashes of pink and orange a bright contrast to the phantasmal silver flames.

“Is it... over?” Ethan asked.

Edrick and the Rangers looked around, keen eyes tracking the shadows for threat. When no more ferrifae had emerged from sky or ground or darkened laneway, Edrick issued the command to leave their circle of flame.