The march back to the surface of the Northern Glaciers was fast.
Lucifer rode his Nightmare Steed at the head of the column. The Aether-Steel Dragoons hovered silently behind him, their blue visors tracking the icy tunnel walls.
The five hundred Radiant Arch-Seraphs maintained the Starfire Aura, their golden wings pushing back the oppressive, magical cold of the Cryo-Sanctum.
But the bulk of the army had changed.
The five thousand Glacial Wyrms no longer slithered like dogs. They were sub-adults, the size of heavy warhorses, their bodies covered in thick, diamond-hard white scales.
Their newly formed, bat-like wings beat the freezing air with massive, concussive force.
Isolde, the Winter Sovereign, walked among them. She did not ride a mount. The Dragon Queen moved with absolute, arrogant confidence, her ice-crystal gown clinking softly.
They reached the massive, arched exit of the glacier tunnel.
