A streak of black dives from the clouds and crashes into me, something so catastrophically large it rivals even the biggest of roses. The impact rips me from my perch and nearly snaps the rose stem in two. Like I'm nothing more than a doll, the thing grips me by the neck and swings me around to bash my spine against the castle walls, shattering the palisade like it's a lineup of twigs. Astonished by the sudden onslaught, shocked by the sheer aggression, dazed by the rosy mist, and now stunned by the fierce brutality, I struggle to fight back against the grip around my neck.
I'm lifted high into the air, kicking and thrashing, trying to claw my way free. All in vain. It's all in vain. So much for my chance at glory. I lost this battle the moment it began. The man I brought here is gone. Certainly dead already.
Wings plume. The webbing is made of rose petals. The scales are red as wine, accented with black protrusions the shade of midnight. A true dragon of mythic proportions, twice as big as Hilde and at least four times bigger than me, rises to its hind legs and lifts me even higher. Sharp, serrated teeth and vicious fangs are bared as the monstrous leviathan growls like a roll of thunder. To my horror, I take notice that its eyes are clouded and milky white, unfocused and somewhat glazed over.
This is no Wretched draconid.
This is the Fallen Queen.
With a low purr of mirth, she whispers in the night.
"You're coming with me, little wyvern."
Fighting for my life, I'm dragged by the neck into the Below.