Waves crash against the midnight shore. Jhardu sits with the tents and campfire to his back, watching the thin moon ripple across the ocean. He closes his eyes and listens to the rhythmic rolling of the tide. At any other time, he would find the sound soothing. But tonight, nothing can ease his anxiety.

Jhardu sighs and turns back to the fire. Across from his sits Elder Assan, his long white beard reflecting firelight. The old man pulls his cloak tighter around him.

"It's colder here, Jhardu. The ocean brings a terrible chill. I should be used to it by now, but I'm not."

"I like the chill," says Jhardu. "It tells me I'm not home. I've always wanted to visit Mennara, you know, ever since the Master first told me about it. I only wish I could have been here before the war. You were one of the first to arrive from the Sunderlands, Assan. What was the land like then?"

Assan snorts. "It was already too late for sight-seeing. By the time we received word of the troubles, Llovar had already clenched his fist about the Uthuk and had set about unifying the Orcs. By the time we arrived, Farrenghast was at his side, raising up armies of the dead. It was all we could do to try and help Falladir's men and the Dwarves fight off the invaders when they swarmed down from the north. Oh, the Elves showed up too - something about an ancient pact with Falladir's kin - but even then, we were already too late."

"What do you mean? You helped hold back the Orcs at the Nonddharya River, and press the Uthuk back into the Wastelands after their first brutal attacks."

"Oh, we did all of that," nods Assan, "but it did no good. For the northern invasion was just a feint. While we all frantically tried to stop up the northern dam, the river of evil was flooding in the west, down through the Valley of Urth and into the Thelgrim Peninsula. It was there the Undead truly came into their own, when they laid siege to the city of Nonalli."

"I remember Nonalli," Jhardu says bitterly. "That was when my brother Waiqar went to help break the siege. But Nonalli fell, and Thelgrim with it, and now Waiqar is gone."

The pair sits in awkward silence. Assan considers the dark thoughts he sees crossing Jhardu's face and clears his throat.

"I was him you know," he says. "I saw Waiqar after the siege. He was gathering troops for his mission into the Char'gr Wastelands. He had Elves with him. It was a joint mission between our forces and theirs, orchestrated by the Master. They were to strike at Llovar from the one direction he least expected it."

Jhardu glares into the fire. "The Master told me about the mission," he says. "He said it was a success, that they stopped Llovar and Farrenghast from raising some dragon as a lich. It wasn't until later that he told me that Waiqar had been captured, and the rest were lucky to escape with their lives."

"That wasn't just 'some dragon,'" says Assan, his eyes flashing. "That was Oboros, king of the Dragonkin. If he had been raised, he would have brought all the Dragonkin under Llovar's control."

Jhardu's brow furrows with thought. "King of the Dragonkin? I thought Tynask was Draco Rex."

"He was…or maybe he still is…We have learned though our dragon contacts that at the beginning of the war, Llovar was trying to recruit the Dragondin. Tyrnask wanted to keep the dragons out of the conflict, but Helspanth, the firedrake, saw the war as an opportunity for the Dragonkin to establish their dominance over Mennara. The two met in secret to negotiate an agreement, but then vanished. Oboros ascended to Draco Rex, but he was unready for the role, and soon assassinated by the evil dragon Azaellrog.

"Until recently, Azaellrog was opposed only by Ceryx Jade and her handful of followers. But now, after betraying Llovar, his army is fighting on two fronts. What's more, Ceryx has been joined by the great dragons of the west, the likes of which have not been seen in Mennara for centuries."

"I had no idea you followed Dragonkin politics so closely, Assan."

The elder chuckles. "They are an aloof and mysterious race, but they will be key to the final outcome of this war. Someone has to keep an eye on them, and that someone is me."

"Then perhaps you can answer a question that's been plaguing me since before we arrived. What is the Shadow Serpent?"

Assan's face darkens. He leans forward secretively, as if the night might overhear his words. "The Shadow Serpent is the harbinger of X'ru, the foretold extinction of the Dragonkin. None have seen its face and lived."

A minute passes in silence. Jhardu ponders what he has heard, wondering what other secrets the elder carries. His mind turns to the travels ahead for the Master and his entourage.

What of our new allies?" he asks. Falladir's knights, how do they fare? Will they be able to hold the line in the battle to come?"

Assan sighs. "Ah, now there is a difficult question. For Falladir is dead, slain on the field of battle, and his knights are in disarray. Baron Vallyr tried to assume the crown, but he was weak, and corrupted by his evil advisors. He tried to use the power of darkness against itself, and it nearly cost him his soul. It was only through his noble sacrifice in battle against the Orcs that he redeemed himself.

"Now the barons have chosen a new king, Daqan. He is brave and wise, but will the knights follow him as they did Falladir? Only time and battle will tell."

The stillness of the night is suddenly broken by a crash from within one of the tents. Jhardu and Assan leap to their feet Jhardu draws his wand.

"It's the Master!" he cries.

Together the two acolytes rush to the Wise One's tent. Inside, they see the Master pushing attendants away and pulling himself to his feet. Though his body is frail, the old man radiates power. He mutters a word, and a cushion moves beneath him. With a heavy sigh, the One looks up at Assan.

"Visions have come to me in the night, old friend," he says. With a slight tremble he rises, again gently brushing off helpful servants. He takes Assan by the arm and leads him out of the tent. Assan senses a melancholy in his Master as he watches him take a deep breath from the air of the continent that once expelled him.

Timorran Lokander, the greatest mage the world has ever known, now trembles visibly as he speaks.

"Two dreams came to me, Assan, tow portents of great tragedy," Timorran stands to face the moonlit ocean. "I have seen the Shadow Serpent. He has revealed himself to me. From the fog of my dreams he spoke to me and I saw his face." Timorran pauses before continuing. "The king of the Dragonkin has returned, Assan. But he cares no longer for this world. He is now Tyransk X'ru: wrathful, powerful, and with doom and prophecy following in his wake."

Assan nods. A black cloud rolls in front of the moon.

"The great dragon showed me another vision," Timorran begins anew.

"He is on the move, my friend. He is coming. He has left his fortress of charcoal talons and steel, and is comng to face me. He has emptied his dark vaults of soldiers and weaponry, and is coming to personally oversee the final destruction.

"Llovar Rutonu comes, Assan, and we must ride to face him. The final battle is upon us. These are the final days."

And the waves crash against the midnight shore.