He smelled a metallic tang in the air, a burning sensation as his eyes teared from the acrid smoke blooming around them. 

Erethiel lowered his goggles into place just as a spray of blood splattered across. How unfortunate. The alchemist fell before him, a drake rider pulling back his weapon after impaling the poor man. 

Not likely that Folke would be getting back up from that one.

Peering up further ahead, Erethiel could place the large crystalline form of Olli, and a flash of metal from where he assumed Reinhardt was fighting, surrounded by enemies. Towering over all of them stood the massive bulking figure of Azrivauxas, the dragon they sought. 

If only he could get a couple of decent volleys off from here, Erethiel thought, as he shifted his grip on the bow in his hand. The cover from the acidic cloud would prove to be beneficial, but not with the immediate threats at hand. It was a shame these drakes and their riders were in the way. They would have to be disposed of first.

Suddenly, stones creaked as the dragon shifted his stance, whipping his head around and leveling a glare across the battlefield. The gargantuan beast’s eyes glowed with a sickly green light.

An intense shudder rolled through Erethiel as he just managed to shrug off a deep sense of dread. A loud gasp sounded behind him. Shissa must have been not as fortunate.

Looking back, he could see the nymph’s eyes darting wildly as the panic washed over her, tension winding up like a spring about to be let loose. 

Only moments away from her fleeing and subsequent doom, if he didn’t act fast.

Folke lay motionless at his feet.

“Shit.”