The fifth dragon passed overhead like a moving storm cloud, its shadow turning the snow beneath purple-black. Ember pressed herself flat against the rocky outcrop, feeling the wrongness wash over her in waves. Not cold—something deeper. The feeling that fire itself had become unwelcome in the world.

Daven's crystals went silent in his pack. Not dimmed or muffled, but completely dead, as if someone had snuffed out their inner light with fingers made of winter.

"That's five confirmed," Theron whispered, marking another position on his rough map. The parchment was already dense with ink—dragon sightings, flight patterns, territorial boundaries sketched in hasty lines.

The dragon wheeled north toward the mountains, its wings displacing enough air to bend the scrub trees below. As soon as it passed beyond the next ridge, the crystals stirred back to life, their soft chiming returning like birds after a thunderstorm.

"Same pattern," Lysa said, flexing her fingers. Small flames danced across her knuckles—weak, guttering things that barely qualified as fire magic. "The moment it's gone, everything comes back."

They'd been tracking dragons for three days now, mapping their movements across what had been the Duchy of Erebos. Each sighting confirmed what they'd suspected since Windcrown Ridge—the creatures weren't random destroyers. They patrolled specific territories, following routes that overlapped and interlocked like scales on a massive beast.

"How many more?" Kindle asked, brushing snow off her shoulders.

"Eight to go, if the reports were accurate." Theron folded his map carefully, protecting it from the wind. "Assuming we can find them all before they find us."

That was the real fear. The dragons had to know intruders were in their territory by now. But knowing and locating were different things, and the team had stayed mobile, never lingering in one place long enough to be pinned down.

Corwin shifted position, his mental shields flickering like candlelight in a draft. "The servitors we've been observing... they're different than I expected."

"Different how?"

"They're not broken. Hollow, maybe, but not shattered. There's still someone home behind their eyes."

Ember had noticed it too. The converted humans they'd watched from a distance moved with purpose, maintained their settlements, even seemed to care for each other in their strange, muted way. Not the shambling undead she'd imagined, but people who'd simply... stopped fighting.

"Think we could talk to one?" Pyra asked. "Find out what happened to them?"

"That's the plan," Corwin said. "But we need to get clear of dragon territory first. The suppression makes any kind of mental contact impossible."

The sixth dragon hunted over the frozen river valley, diving and climbing in pursuit of something too small to see from their hiding place. Its scales caught the weak sunlight like broken mirrors, throwing fractured rainbows across the snow.

"Smaller than the others," Senna observed, her silver-threaded hair dark and lifeless in the magical deadzone. "Younger, maybe?"

Through Theron's spyglass, Ember watched the creature play with its prey—allowing near escapes before swooping down to cut off retreat. Whatever it was chasing finally disappeared into a copse of pine trees. The dragon circled once, twice, then landed with enough force to shake the ground half a mile away.

When it took off again minutes later, five figures emerged from the trees. They walked in formation toward the nearest settlement, their movements no different from any other servitor patrol.

"It's converting them during the hunt," Ash said. "Not killing. Converting."

The implications settled over them like frost. Every refugee caught, every resistance fighter captured, became another servitor in the dragon's domain. A growing population of willing servants.

"That's sick," Pyra muttered, flames flaring around her fists.

"That's effective," Theron corrected grimly. "Population growth and recruitment in one process."

They waited until the dragon disappeared toward the eastern mountains before moving again. The seventh and eighth creatures took most of the day to locate—one patrolling the southern approaches, another circling what had been a major trading center.

Each sighting refined their understanding. The dragons weren't cooperating by chance. Their territories formed an interconnected web that covered every approach to the region's heart.

No gaps. No blind spots. A network designed by someone who understood both tactics and the limitations of magical sight.

"You'd think a dragon wouldn't care this much about the details," Cinder observed over her meager dinner ration. "Wouldn't they just... burn it all and take over that way?"

Theron shrugged. "By all reports, Nethysara wants loyal subjects, not incinerated wasteland."

"Besides, these dragons probably breathe ice instead of fire," Pyra added unhelpfully. "Oof!"

Ember, who'd provided that last elbow to Pyra's ribs, cleared her throat. "I think Cinder's right, though. Nethysara could do a lot of damage all at once, and she's not. There has to be a reason for that."

"We'll add it to the pile of mysteries we're currently drowning in," Theron said.

They found the ninth dragon by accident.

Cinder had been scouting ahead when the temperature plummeted from wintry to bone-achingly cold. She hit the ground immediately, pressing herself against a fallen log as massive wings passed overhead.

The creature landed in a clearing barely a hundred yards away.

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Through the trees, Ember watched it fold its wings and settle. Its breath misted in the air, each exhalation sending up billowing clouds of frost. The dragon leaned down, sniffing as if seeking a scent.

Its scales gleamed blue-white like the icebergs. Twin horns curved back from its skull, framing long spines that trailed down its serpentine neck to a body the size of an overturned ship. Claws dug furrows into the earth as it shifted, tail lashing behind it in slow sweeps.

"Little birds in winter coats," it said, voice carrying like wind through ice caverns. "I smell your warmth. I smell your fear."

The team froze. Each beat of Ember's heart felt too loud, blood rushing in her ears. None of them dared breathe as the dragon sniffed again, turning its head slowly back and forth.

Daven had already cast a mild ward over their party—simple stealth, nothing that would trigger hostile attention. Senna had added to it with her best illusory cover, camouflaging them against the background. None of them knew if the concealments would stand up to direct scrutiny, especially not with a dragon this close.

Every instinct said to attack first, while the creature remained close. But something in Ember's gut held her back. The others seemed to feel it too.

The dragon crouched, resting one massive foreleg on the ground. Its eyes, slitted like a cat's, narrowed in amusement. "You watch us as we watch you. How amusing. Do you learn anything useful, little spies? Do you see the shape of your future?"

Cinder remained motionless against her log. One wrong move, one sound, and the creature would pinpoint her location instantly.

"No matter," the dragon said finally. "Winter claims all things in time. Even fire eventually gutters out."

It launched itself back into the sky with casual power, leaving the clearing empty except for the deep gouges its claws had left in the frozen earth.

They didn't speak until they were miles away.

"It knew we were there," Pyra said, stating the obvious because someone had to.

"But it didn't hunt us," Ember replied. "Why?"

Ash rubbed her temples as if staving off a headache. "The better question is, will it tell Nethysara? Or ignore us as irrelevant?"

Silence greeted that. No one had an answer.

"I wish we knew where the big boss herself is," Kindle said. "Every time I look up, I half expect to see her covering the sky."

"See, now you've jinxed it." Ember searched the overcast for telltale movement, but there was nothing but gray cloud cover. "Well, we're not a giant ice dragon's chew toys yet. I'd call that a victory for now."

Dragons ten and eleven patrolled the northern reaches, their territories extending into mountain passes that had once connected Erebos to neighboring kingdoms. The creatures flew in loose formation, never more than a few miles apart, close enough to coordinate but far enough to cover maximum ground.

"Border guards," Theron identified. "Making sure nothing gets in or out without permission."

From their vantage point on a wind-scoured peak, the view stretched for dozens of miles. White expanse broken by the dark lines of rivers and forests, all of it under the dragons' dominion. Here and there, settlements showed signs of life—smoke from chimneys, movement in the streets. But it was muted life, purposeful but somehow drained of vitality.

"Whatever happens to these people," Cinder said, standing with Ember on a ledge overlooking the icy expanse, "I hope it's reversible. I can't imagine being stuck like... like this forever."

Ember gazed out at the settlements, picturing the slack-faced servitors inside. "It better be reversible. We've never fought an enemy like this. And if we can't undo what she's done, we'll have no choice but to..."

Cinder shuddered, and Ember put an arm around her sister-self. Neither of them finished the thought.

Dragon twelve appeared near sunset, a massive form silhouetted against storm clouds that seemed to follow in its wake. It landed on a peak across the valley, claws digging into bare stone as it settled.

This one was different from the others. Larger, with thicker scales and heavier ridges along its neck. Ember thought it looked older somehow—more scarred, more dangerous, with a cunning gleam in its eyes that made her feel like she'd been spotted even across miles of air.

When it moved, the other dragons in the vicinity adjusted their flights to accommodate it. When it roared, the sound carried for miles, and every servitor in the valley below paused in their tasks to acknowledge the call.

"Chain of command," Daven observed. "That one gives orders. The others follow."

"Is that Nethysara?" Ember asked, squinting at the distant creature.

Theron shook his head. "Not her. Still too small to be her. This one's likely her mate."

"Wait, how can you tell if a dragon is male or female?" Pyra's question interrupted further discussion. "No offense, but they're not exactly... anatomically obvious."

"Posture," Theron said simply. "Females hold their wings differently, turn their heads in specific ways, display their claws more prominently. It's surprisingly easy to tell once you learn the signs."

When it finally departed, heading toward the central peaks where the ancient dragon's lair supposedly lay, the team felt something lift from their shoulders. Not the magical suppression—that remained constant—but an easing of the primal dread every time those reptilian eyes swept over them.

"Twelve down," Theron said, ticking off the list. "One to go."

Tracking down dragon thirteen took another two days. They found it far to the west, soaring over snow-dusted highlands near the borders of the dragon's domain.

They watched from the treeline, safe for the moment among the dense shadows of the pine forest. The dragon's movements had a restless energy to it, and even from a distance, they sensed an impatience in its posture.

"This one's different," Cinder said, watching it glide and wheel about like a gull over open water. "Not just in how it moves, I mean. It's like the rest of the world doesn't exist to this one."

It took a few moments for Ember to see what Cinder meant. While the other dragons patrolled their territories with a steady precision—always watchful, always on guard—this one seemed distracted, even bored, with its duties. The long sweeps across the highlands were perfunctory, and the dragon constantly paused to sniff the air, as if hoping something interesting would present itself.

"Maybe it's new to this job," Pyra suggested, which felt uncomfortably plausible. "Or maybe it's a younger dragon?"

"Doesn't matter," Theron said. "Its routine is as predictable as any other. We've got enough data to work out their overall patterns."

As the final dragon soared away across the hills, heading toward the central peaks like the others, Ember turned to their leader. "So what's the plan? Go back to the keep and report?"

Theron folded his spyglass, tucking it back into his pack. "Not yet. We need to gather intelligence inside the settlements now. Observe how they're functioning under this... control." He took a long, slow breath. "And we need to try talking to one."

Ash raised an eyebrow. "Is that wise? Approaching a servitor directly? They might alert others."

Corwin answered for him, his voice more strained than usual. "We won't do anything reckless. Just observe. Maybe I can learn something through a light touch of mental influence."

"We're all aware of the risks," Theron said. "But if we're to defeat this dragon and her minions, we need firsthand knowledge. Reports only get us so far. Not only that, but Corwin needs to test whether their influence can be reversed. At least initially."

Corwin nodded. "Plus, I'll need practice countering these mental shackles. Otherwise, the coalition army would fall the moment we begin the actual assault. The standard mental barrier spells only do so much to shield from this influence."

Ember put her hands behind her head. "Alright, I see the point. It's just... I don't like not knowing what's waiting for us in those villages."

"That makes two of us," said Lysa, one hand on her hip.

"Then let's get moving," Theron said, gesturing back down the hillside. "We can make it to that settlement in the valley by nightfall. Find us a secure location to set up camp nearby. We'll test our luck tomorrow."

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