In the Grindwood, a Darklander was traveling from het-Sepir to Grindsmouth, whistling to the tune of a Sarqindi war song. He was strolling casually along the Grinding River, still clad in his cluttered armour from his services in the Islands of Ormal.

This was Jykale, a Darklander of nineteen years of age. For several years, he had served as a soldier in Gunglip's army in the Islands, protecting Mórenorë and its inhabitants from unwanted visitors from the Sunlands. He had retired back to the Dark Land for some convenient peacetime, but this was at a cost.

"I miss the Islands already…" muttered Jykale, aloud. "I already missed the transfer to Salvidor, and now there's nothing here for me but random visits from-"

But at that moment, a dark figure leapt at him from the treetops, and kicked him to the ground. It was the Underlord himself.

"You believe that crimes are easy to bypass, and that idle behavior would throw me off?" demanded the Underlord, menacingly. "Speak to me, Darklander, or I will force more out of you than just words!"

At this, he drew out a blade, and pointed it at Jykale's stomach. Before Jykale could react, to his surprise, the Underlord almost immediately re-sheathed his weapon, and forced him back to his feet. Jykale choked loudly, and looked at the armoured entity that stood before him.

"What crimes?" wheezed Jykale. "I did nothing!"

"Did you now?" replied the Underlord, skeptical. "We shall see…"

Then he grabbed the Darklander by the shoulder, and walked him back towards the Green Mountains. As they walked, the sounds of the river crashing against the razor-sharp rapids drowned out the sounds of wildlife nearby.

"What is happening to me, then?" asked Jykale.

"I have a task for you to do." Said the Underlord, clicking his spike-like teeth. "Have you heard about…Dragons?"

"Of course." Replied Jykale, nodding graciously. "I've learned much about the North from my comrades in the Islands. I'm even a bit of an expert, myself."

"Then here is your opportunity…" whispered the armoured creature. "To meet one up close!"

"By the Unlight, this is amazing!" exclaimed Jykale. "Please, tell me where to go!"

Then the Underlord pushed Jykale away, and directed him to the lake nearby. He then departed eastwards towards the Black Screw, intending to journey to the Islands of Ormal for other matters.

Jykale ran towards the lake, where he was met by Galkyn and two of his fellow soldiers. They seemed frantic.

"Jykale, are we grateful to have found you!" said Galkyn, visibly relieved about something.

"What's the problem, my dear friend?" asked Jykale.

"You will not believe this, but there is a Dragon here in Mórenorë! She is in desperate need of a place to rest. We told her that you know about the Black Mountains' hot springs."

"So it is a female Dragon?" said Jykale, completely surprised. "I was already ordered to meet with her, but now I think I know what the Underlord wanted me to do!"

Galkyn looked shocked.

"The Underlord told you to meet with her?" he whispered into his friend's ear.

"Of course." said Jykale. "Now, did you say that you already told her about me?"

Galkyn nodded, with a guilty expression on her face.

"I did. Please forgive me, friend. I did not know what we were thinking. I think the dragon bewitched us somehow. There was something about her eyes I suspected was forcing the captain to yield his knowledge of the lands, and of anyone that would know how to reach that place."

"I imagined this would happen!" Jykale nodded. "But I'd imagine that what I had already told you about Dragons would be enough to convince your comrades not to look into the Dragon's eyes."

"Yes, I tried to warn them, but something else came up." whispered Galkyn, leaning forward to whisper into Jykale's ear. "It was her voice. I can say that the dragon has a very fascinating voice. She has a hypnotic, almost compelling tone in her voice, and she speaks with perhaps the thickest accent I have ever heard. It is the kind of voice only someone from the Far North could have."

"Very well." said Jykale. "I will look into this, my friend. Farewell!"

"May the Unlight have mercy on you." Said Galkyn, fearful for Jykale's safety.

Jykale proceeded towards the lake, where he saw Naikamil, laying flat on her belly, looking at the Green Mountains. She seemed completely distracted by her surroundings, giving Jykale enough time to take his Unlight-tinted goggles from a pack built into his left greave, and place them over his eyes. He knew that if he were to speak to the Dragon, he would have to do so in a way that could allow him to face her without suffering the Dragon-curse.

His vision was darkened and slightly distorted, but he could still see his surroundings just as fine. He ducked behind a patch of tall grass, and looked silently at Naikamil.

Naikamil sniffed the air, and snorted. She was already growing impatient. She was under the impression that the comrades of the Darklander she had just killed were toying with her. Already, she had waited nearly an hour for them to return, and she was growing more stressed than ever before.

"If your friend does not come here soon, I will hunt you down, and destroy all evidence of your pathetic existences!" The cold-drake roared in fury, as if calling to the Darklanders that had already left.

Jykale jumped back in fright, and fell backwards with a choking yelp. Luckily, Naikamil did not see him yet. Jykale got back to his feet, and looked hard at Naikamil, who was lashing her tail at the already mangled corpse of the twenty-year-old Darklander. He looked at her massive, black, scaly body, then felt his heart leap as he looked at her serpentine face, which was now looking in his direction.

"I see you. Now come out, and I can perhaps give you a proper method of resting 'peacefully'." Naikamil snarled lowly.

Jykale felt his heart leap again, and approached the cold-drake, with his hands against the back corners of his head. He walked slowly towards the cold-drake, bracing himself for potential wrath.