Chapter 394: Sauron Descends
Smaug angled away from the Aurors' position, pouring fire down on the enemy host without restraint.
In an instant, roaring flames raced through Angmar's army, and the air filled with screams and shrieks that never seemed to end.
And all of it happened in only a few breaths.
When he was done, the great dragon fixed on the Witch-king of Angmar, who was still locked in battle with the Aurors, and plunged straight at him, searing dragonfire already gathering in his throat.
Smaug did not need to warn them. The Aurors Apparated aside in perfect, practiced coordination.
The next moment, with nothing to hold him back, Smaug unleashed a torrent of blazing flame at the Witch-king.
By now, Smaug had fully absorbed the dragon crystal of the frost dragon. Because their attributes did not match, he had not grown to the same colossal size, but the heat and destructive force of his dragonfire had reached the level of an ancient fire-drake.
His flames were hot enough to threaten even a Ring of Power, hot enough to endanger the Witch-king himself.
The Witch-king did not hesitate. He dodged in a blink, slipping out of the burning path in a flash of movement, and sprang off his fell beast.
The fell beast was not so lucky. It could not evade in time. The dragonfire swallowed it whole, turning it into a creature of living flame. With a shriek of agony, it thrashed in midair for a few frantic beats, then crashed down like a meteor, crushing Orcs on the ground who had no time to flee.
Smaug had missed his true target, but he did not relent. He dove after the Witch-king, chasing him down across the battlefield.
Without a mount, no matter how fast the Witch-king was, he could not outrun a flying dragon for long. Smaug closed the distance in moments.
Seeing firelight flicker again in Smaug's jaws, the Witch-king cried out, "Master, save me!"
The instant the words left him, the sky turned pitch-black, and darkness smothered the land.
The entire battlefield fell silent, as if time itself had frozen. A suffocating, dreadful presence descended, and fear bloomed in every heart for no reason at all, as though hope and courage had been torn away.
Then it came, like countless murmurs echoing through the air. Not a sound you could truly hear, but a voiceless music that reached straight into the soul, coaxing, tempting, impossible to ignore.
Smaug's attack halted mid-motion. The ease in his posture vanished. His scales bristled, his whole body drawn tight, facing an enemy he could not afford to underestimate.
The Aurors felt it too, that invisible pressure squeezing the breath from their chests. At the same time, they had to fight off that seductive, soul-deep whispering. Their expressions twisted with strain, teeth clenched, eyes watering with pain and fury as they held on.
It felt like a long time had passed, or perhaps only a heartbeat.
Then the sky split open.
A vast tear yawned overhead, filled with darkness, the kind of absolute black that seemed capable of devouring everything. It was shaped like a gigantic vertical eye, exuding a presence that made the blood run cold, as if something unspeakable was being born within it.
At last, a towering figure stepped out of the rift.
He wore a jagged helm of spikes and armor as black as night. Flames and dark smoke coiled around him. He was unnaturally tall, crushingly oppressive, and from within the helm burned a pair of firelit eyes, heavy with evil and authority.
"Sauron." Smaug's voice turned grave, harsher than it had ever been.
This Sauron had a body. The aura pouring off him was terrifying, and it set every instinct in Smaug screaming with unease and danger.
Smaug gathered every shred of power he had and breathed his hottest dragonfire straight at him.
Sauron did not dodge. He simply walked through the air toward Smaug as though strolling along an unseen road. The raging flame struck an invisible barrier before it could reach him, then died out as if snuffed by an unseen hand.
Smaug's pupils shrank. Fear flashed across his face. He understood at once that he was no match for Sauron, and he turned to flee.
But in the next instant, a long spear formed in Sauron's hand, condensed from pure darkness. He hurled it.
The black spear moved like lightning. Smaug had no chance to evade. It drove straight for his heart.
Smaug's eyes widened as the stench of death slammed into him, and at that instant, a defensive barrier burst from his chest, stopping the spear for a fraction of a moment.
It was the one place on Smaug's body that lacked scales. Kael had used mithril to inscribe runes and forge an alchemical defensive piece shaped like a dragon scale, setting it into that gap to replace what nature had not given him.
That dragon-scale alchemical piece held tremendous defensive power. It could withstand powerful spells, and it could even repair itself.
But against Sauron's spear, it was like paper before a blade. It slowed the strike for only the briefest instant, nowhere near enough to stop it.
Yet that one-thousandth of a second was enough.
Smaug twisted desperately, wrenching his body aside to avoid a killing blow.
The spear shattered the barrier and grazed past his heart, plunging into his chest.
Agony exploded through him. Smaug let out a scream that shook the air.
The force behind the throw was monstrous. It carried Smaug with it, smashing him away and sending him hurtling more than a thousand meters through the sky.
But it also gave him the space he needed.
Smaug clenched down on the pain. Before he could crash into the ground, he spread his wings and beat them hard, fleeing at full speed. Even as he fled, he roared to the Aurors below, "Run! You are not his match!"
Then, without looking back, he tore toward Hogwarts.
He could feel the spear buried in his chest pouring out dark power, gnawing into his flesh, trying to turn him into a creature of darkness, trying to make him Sauron's puppet.
On the battlefield, the Aurors saw Smaug driven off and understood immediately. They did not hesitate. One after another, they gripped their Portkeys and vanished in flashes of departure.
But Sauron clearly had no intention of letting them all escape.
The nearest thirteen Aurors triggered their Portkeys, only to be crushed by the overwhelming dark power Sauron released. The suppression pinned them in place, and they could not get away in time.
With a casual lift of his hand, an invisible force seized the thirteen Aurors and dragged them through the air until they floated before him.
Sauron looked them over as they trembled, terror plain on their faces. A low laugh rolled out of him, pleased, almost appreciative.
"Excellent wizards," he said. "From this day on, you will be my servants."
He raised that black hand, missing one finger, and lightly brushed it over their heads.
In an instant, the pupils of every Auror turned completely black. The struggle and fear drained from their expressions. They bowed with reverent fanaticism.
"We greet you, Master. We are willing to serve you."
Sauron smiled in satisfaction. "Good. From now on, you are my Black Wizard Knights."
Then he released a tide of darkness that spread across the entire battlefield.
Under Sauron's influence, the dead Orcs began to rise again, or rather, they were turned into Barrow-wights, far more powerful and dangerous than the ones the Witch-king of Angmar had made.
All of Angmar's army was seized and tainted by Sauron's power. The Barrow-wights, the bones, the Orcs, the Trolls, all of them became puppets. The host re-formed into a single marching mass and began advancing toward Hogwarts.
Inside Hogwarts Castle.
The moment Sauron and his army entered the territory, Kael saw Sauron's name on the Marauder's Map.
Beside him stood Gandalf, Bilbo, and Boromir, the members of the Ringbearer party who were openly traveling west.
When Kael saw the outcome at the North Downs battlefield, his expression turned grim. He looked up at Gandalf and the others and spoke in a low, heavy voice.
"Everyone, Sauron has revealed himself in person. What comes next may be the hardest war we have ever faced."