The final offensive did not break against the outer walls, nor did it seep slowly through the substrate. It erupted from the inside out.
Dawn had barely touched the sky over Drak'thar when the spatial fabric in the absolute center of the main courtyard violently inverted. With a sound like tearing metal, a jagged, bleeding rupture tore open, wide enough to swallow the palace's grand hall whole.
Owen was already awake. Leaning against the cold stone of the high balcony, he had been watching the stars fade, his mind turning over the impossible reality of Kael'thar sleeping beneath his roof. He felt the barometric pressure drop a fraction of a second before the courtyard shattered.
He didn't run for the stairs. Owen vaulted directly over the balustrade.
He transformed in freefall. His draconic mass expanded aggressively in the cold morning air, heavy black-gold scales snapping into place as his massive wings caught the updraft.
