The two barely had time to react before the sound of claws scraping against volcanic rock filled the air. From the shadows of the looming cliffs, a dozen NightWing guards emerged, their dark scales blending seamlessly with the blackened landscape. The gleaming tips of their spears glowed faintly in the dim, reddish light, each one poised to strike.

"Deathbringer," one of the guards snarled, his forked tongue flicking out as he bared his teeth. His slitted eyes gleamed with barely contained fury. "After what you did, you dare to show your face here?"

Icemoon tensed, her wings instinctively spreading slightly in preparation for a fight. She flicked a glance at Deathbringer, but he remained unnervingly calm, rolling his shoulders as if this was merely an inconvenience rather than a direct threat to his life.

"Good to see you too," Deathbringer said smoothly, a smirk playing at the edges of his snout. "Still holding grudges, are we?"

The lead guard let out a deep, guttural growl. "You betrayed your own tribe," he spat, his grip tightening on his spear. "Assassins don't get to walk free after turning their backs on the queen."

Icemoon shifted her weight onto her hind legs, her tail curling slightly as she assessed their opponents. Twelve guards. Spears. Heavy armor. But their formation wasn't flawless—she spotted gaps, places where she could strike if it came to a fight.

She turned her gaze to Deathbringer, who still looked maddeningly unfazed. "So," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear. "Do you have a plan, or should I start freezing spears?"

Deathbringer's smirk widened. "Oh, I always have a plan." Then, without another word, he lunged.

Icemoon let out a sharp breath, her patience snapping like a brittle twig. With a swift, fluid motion, she lunged forward, her claws raking up the chest of the nearest guard. A gurgling gasp escaped him as dark blood splattered onto the scorched ground, his body crumpling lifelessly beneath her strike.

Before the others could react, she whirled, her tail lashing like a whip. A second guard thrust his spear at her, but she sidestepped with lethal grace, grabbing the shaft mid-air. With a sharp crack, she snapped it in half, tossing the broken fragments aside as she bared her fangs.

Deathbringer chuckled beside her, dodging a strike with effortless agility. "Well, you certainly don't waste time," he mused, his claws darting out to slash at another opponent.

Icemoon flicked her wings, sending a burst of cold air spiraling outward, forcing the remaining guards to hesitate. Their gazes flickered between her and Deathbringer, uncertainty creeping into their hardened expressions.

"Run," she snarled, eyes glowing like twin icy stars. "Or stay and die. Your choice."

One of the guards, younger and less seasoned than the others, took an uneasy step back. Another shifted his grip on his weapon, doubt flickering in his narrowed eyes.

Deathbringer spread his wings, shaking his head with an amused grin. "Come on now, let's not make this too easy."

The leader of the group, still standing despite a deep scratch along his shoulder, let out a furious hiss. "You'll regret this," he spat, but even as he spoke, he was already backing away. One by one, the other guards followed, their retreating footsteps echoing through the tunnels.

Icemoon exhaled, rolling her shoulders before shooting Deathbringer a pointed look. "Next time, warn me before you throw us into a fight."

Deathbringer only smirked. "Where's the fun in that?"

Icemoon sighed, rustling her wings as she surveyed the darkened tunnel ahead. The stench of decay still clung to the air, but at least no other guards appeared to be lurking in the shadows.

"Let's go," she muttered.

Deathbringer nodded, his usual smirk replaced by a more serious expression. Together, they swept into the tunnel, moving with purpose. Their claws barely made a sound against the volcanic stone, the dim light of molten lava flickering along the walls. It wasn't long before they reached the heart of the fortress—the throne room.

The chamber was vast, its ceiling disappearing into darkness. Jagged rock formations jutted from the walls like the teeth of some ancient beast. At the center sat a raised obsidian platform, and atop it rested a throne of polished black stone, gleaming under the eerie glow of moonstone lanterns.

And there, curled atop the throne, was a young NightWing.

She was smaller than most of her tribe, her scales sleek and dark as a starless night. Around her neck hung a necklace of smooth moonstones, each glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. Her sharp silver eyes narrowed at the sight of them, and she bristled, her wings flaring slightly.

"What are you doing here, Deathbringer?" she spat, her voice cold and laced with warning. "Mother told you—you're banished."

Icemoon tensed beside him, her tail flicking as she studied the young dragon. The air in the throne room felt heavier now, thick with unspoken tension.

Deathbringer, however, remained unfazed. He stepped forward, tilting his head slightly as if amused. "Well, hello to you too, Mistral," he said smoothly. "Still playing queen, I see?"

Mistral's eyes flashed with irritation. "I am queen while Mother is away," she snapped. "And if you came to grovel for forgiveness, you're wasting your breath. You shouldn't have set foot on this island."

Icemoon glanced at Deathbringer, waiting to see how he'd respond. She could feel the weight of Mistral's glare on them both, the young dragon clearly itching to call the guards. This wasn't going to be easy.