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And it ended abruptly.

The team stopped atop a cliff that overlooked a deep, dark chamber. They couldn’t see the bottom, but the space was far from empty.

A guttural roar erupted from it—a mob incensed at the sight of invaders.

“The inner sanctum,” Eir said. She raised her bow and shot an arrow into the chamber. It flared, showing a mob of norn warriors—or once-norn.

None retained a fleshly body. All now were made of ice and stone. Some had great spiked clubs for hands. Others had frozen plates jutting from their backs. Still more had monstrous faces stretched by forests of icy fangs. The arrow flew past them, showing perhaps five hundred before it struck the far wall and exploded.

“What in the Foefire are those things?” Rytlock wondered.

“Icebrood. Hundreds of years old, corrupted by the Dragonspawn. We’ll take this battle to them.”

“Phase Three?” Rytlock guessed.

“Phase Three,” Eir said. “Snaff, stay up here and control Sandy. Caithe, stay here as well and guard him.”

“Yes,” the sylvari agreed.

“What are we doing?” Rytlock asked.

“You, Logan, Zojja, Garm, and Sandy are going down with me to fight them, to draw out the Dragonspawn.” Turning, Eir nocked three shafts and sent them down into the cavern. Three more arrows followed, and three more before the first volley struck the floor. The arrowheads exploded, blasting apart their foes and clearing a patch at the cliff’s base.

Eir slung her arm over Sandy and said to Logan and Zojja, “Climb on.”

They did.

“Sandy, give our charr friend a ride,” Eir commanded.

The sand golem grasped Rytlock and slung him up to piggyback.

“Take us down,” Eir ordered.

The golem bounded from the cliff’s edge and plunged. On the way down, Eir loosed six more shafts, tearing holes in the enemy army.

Sandy landed at the base of the cliff, legs flexing to take the impact. Eir, Logan, Rytlock, and Zojja rolled free and scrambled to their feet. Garm landed heavily beside them.

“Charge!” Eir shouted, sending arrows ahead of them. Explosions cleared the way.

Behind her came Sandy, marching over the icebrood. Giant feet crushed the ice minions, and giant hands smashed them. The few icebrood that evaded Sandy ran headlong into the charr, the man, the asura, and the dire wolf.

“At last, real combat!” Rytlock roared.

He reared back as a frozen sword glanced off his armor. Lunging, he rammed Sohothin through the body of an ice monster. The creature split, shards sliding past each other to splash on the ground. Rytlock spun around and seared the head off another warrior.

Logan meanwhile traded blows with one of the icebrood. Its ice axe rang against his breastplate, but his war hammer cracked against its knee. The warrior toppled to its back. Logan leaped on it and emptied its head with his maul.

He jumped back and flung his hand out. His fingers smeared blue aura in the air, solidifying it in a shield before Zojja. The icebrood pounded up to the shield but couldn’t reach the asura apprentice.

Zojja sent gouts of flame bursting from her hands and melted the monsters all around.

Garm bulled through ranks, smashing them down to break on the icy ground.

Shattered shards, broken bodies, steaming pools—the comrades flattened the icebrood.

But then a blue-white light erupted in the center of the chamber. It emerged from the icy floor and pierced the ceiling and cast all in its horrid glow. Out of that shaft, a figure took shape. Its crystalline back was hunched and spiky, and spiraling energies infused its frigid frame.

“The Dragonspawn!” Eir cried, halting her team.

Even the icebrood fell back from that horrid presence.

The Dragonspawn’s eye sockets beamed a wicked blue light across them all, and its icicle fingers weaved strange magics in the air. It spoke in a voice like ice grating on stone. So, you have killed a hundred of my warriors?

It was hard to reply, hard to scrape words together. The shaman’s mind was filling the chamber, infusing every mind with its aura. Only the tattoos kept the companions’ minds from