Agalo settled on the broad ridge and sighed as he pulled his wings in and stretched his tail free of the kinks that flying always seemed to put into it.
He had kept the Covenant, but every year it became more and more difficult to do. THey had things in the heavens so high up you could not fly tot hem, and they could take pictures and reveal everything, the world as a whole no longer a mystery.
Not being seen for all their kind was ever more difficult, and ever more dangerous, and though they had found the Arrarran Mists and so learned to take the forms of these beings, it was little comfort now that they had all felt the change some few weeks ago.
A change that sent all of them into the urgent meeting that he had arrived for, in this rare and unusual out of the way place, inhospitable and barren as it was.
There were seven of them, the word was, and they had discovered the thing that Dragons had been searching for ever since Tiamaris and Bahala had vanished.
And all seven of them knew about the Dragons, now. How could they not?
They were, now and forever, a part of the very world itself. Even should the Great Goal be achieved, these seven would forever be here, and any one of them was mightier and more deadly than any Dragon or dragon kin could ever hope to be.
Among them, one, though, was the greatest threat, for that one, now untouchable, could erase all of them with but a thought.
They had lost.
Tiamaris, forgive us.