They ran. The smoke was thick, only barely dampened by the misty cloak that hung from their manes. It was strong enough to repel the burns that would have otherwise eventuated, at least for the most part. The socks that decorated their legs singed away, the ends of the tails shortening as the flames licked at their hides. They ran, faster and harder still.

The followed the golden dragon, a beacon, a sign of hope from above. Though she appeared much like a flame herself, her form did not leave a trail of smoke and ash behind it, they were able to identify her, find comfort in her, use her as a guide to their salvation.

Rishima twirls at them then, the fire evidently not their only enemy, as she scorns them for their behaviour. Good humouredly they grin at her, stepping nearer to their moonbeam of a sister with concern upon their masks as she bends to one knee.

But the danger had not passed, the Sun God feeling it necessary to spread his wings again, and send a wall of flame directly for them. A great rumbling earthquake seems to sound all around them, they recognise the draconic qualities of it - eyes skywards, they see the great hulk of Vikram, Akaith's voice joining in with his own, her golden form seem fling alongside his.

Run. They had to run again. The brothers shook their napes hopelessly in a effort to resurrect what few shreds might be left of their cloak, both of them then bending down to lift Rishima by the crest of her nape, willing her to stand but dragging her along if she could not.

Pain lashes their rumps, they knew not what mark they might bear after this, just another assorted scar to match their already sliced and diced hides. It spurs them onwards, away, out of reach.

Akaith flies with Vikram, sending her mind to him, relishing in the strength of the dragon that has risen up within him. From behind them, she can hear the brothers call out to herself and the bronze, urging them to come away from this crazed God; and while anger does will her to attack, she also thinks of her bonded.


Draw back, Vikram. Run with us. The voice mimicked Mirage's, and it was gentle, but firm in its command, able to be heard even over the cacophony of the chaos all around them.