The darkness beckons him like an old friend; although the upper surface of Helovia is now available to him, he feels drawn to the caves that he has made his home during these first days. Cynder flies miles above him, reluctant to re-enter the caverns that so restrict her ability to soar, and he can feel her objection as she clings to the snow-coated trees. Stay here, if you want. It matters not to me. Perhaps that is a lie, as the hellhound feels far more content when she is close to him, but knows he cannot tie her to his body with a leash. She is her own animal, and as strong as their bond is, they need some semblance of independence from one another. The war-dragon shrieks, and he can feel her mental dilemma - stay out here and revel in the freedom, or join the black titan, to whom she would give her last breath?

In the end, it is not a choice at all. With a birdlike caw, the dragoness drops from her tree and flies beside the stallion, her tail lighting his way.

His massive hooves collide heavily with the ground as he walks, his gargantuan skull swinging side to side as he ensures he drinks in every inch of his surroundings. Nostrils flare, and a hiss escapes him as he detects the repugnant scent of a unicorn. He feels his blood rise, feels his desire to kill begin to pulsate through his body; he begins to move towards the stench, almost frothing with anticipation. When he sees the horn-headed mongrel, his ears pin, disappearing into the roiling depths of his mane. The creature is adorned with not one, but three horns - not only that, but his face is obscured by a skull that is not his own, possessing its own antlers. The sight of the antlers almost sends a shudder down the warlord's spine; the warlock who took his magic and regressed Cynder had such abominations atop his stunted head. The beast's gaze continues to travel and he notices the mongrel's fused eyelids - he is blind.

Suddenly the warrior feels the morbid desire to torture spread through him, to make this one suffer. He does not often indulge such macabre fantasies; he is a killer, not a torturer. He does his duty of ridding the world of its vermin, but he sees little reason in dragging it out, in making them beg for it - the faster he does the deed, the faster he can move onto the next victim. But not today. Today, he sees an opportunity to enjoy himself with the simple pleasure of watching another squirm.

He begins to paw at the ground, massive hoof rasping against the stone floor. At the same time, in the opposite corner of the cave, Cynder releases a dragon's scream, her claws slashing against the cavern wall to create a noise like fingernails on a blackboard. The warbringer hopes to disorientate the other male; to see the fear spread through his body as he realises he is surrounded by enemies he cannot see. Tyradon's hoof slams down again, the heavy thud creating a din that echoes through the entire cave system, and the beginnings of a demonic cackle pour from his jaws. ""