Ironvale sat in silence, looking out toward the sea of red gold as though he was waiting for something.
Suddenly, he looked up and nodded.
The Thistles had their trump cards. The Firewings had their trump cards.
But didn't he too?
They had a numbers' advantage that no one could match up to.
While it seemed he had come alone, had he ever truly been?
He didn't know what was going on, but he felt like he had been played in someone's palm. He didn't usually like to use his brain very much when it came to this sort of thing, but he wasn't just fighting for himself right now, he was fighting for the Sect that had given him everything he could hang his hat on.
How could he take the fate of the Sect that raised him as lightly as his own life?
With a push of his palm, Ironvale soared down to the lava below, landing lightly. Though he could see Thessa, he didn't seem to be in a rush to deal with her at all.
