The ward snaps into place at the same time Galo realizes what he has to do here. As Kray charges are Lio the world feels like it slows down. It isn’t. He is just seeing the way forward. “Lio! Don’t kill him!”

The balance has to be maintained. Killing Kray would lose more fire the world can’t afford to lose. The earth cracks to his left and a staff made of smooth obsidian stone rises to his waiting hand. Fire wraps around him as the chains holding his magic fall away.

It over takes the black robe, forming the cowl as the blistering heat of the deep places of the earth hammers out, forming a great circle. Kray roars and rakes his claws at Lio. Galo speaks, his voice the heat of the magma. The snap of camp fire sparks. Forest fires and flames ablaze.

“It begins.” He walks towards the great circle and his steps melt the stone that used to be the courtyard before Kray’s house. He could throw himself into this fight. But that isn’t his role. His voice rises in a chant that hadn’t been uttered in his life time, the earth guiding him as storm clouds gather up above. The wind roars and the forest beyond the town winds great limbs over the ward. Water pulls itself into a great dome and still he walks.

Kray doesn’t notice. He only has eyes for the dragon he seeks to over power. The haunting strangeness beyond him is nothing.