The dragon has done his best to avoid the fighting.

He's spent most of the crusade in his domain, hedging his bets and floating it as far back as he can. He sits at the edge, watching out, and waiting.

They're losing the war, he sees, and sighs, putting his chin down on his paws.

The other dragons have gone to war. As time passes, he watches them fight and fall, watches stars go out in grief for them.

And in the end, there is only this.

He sees the army approaches, sees the Malakite glowing black at its head, and he steps out of his domain.

He lowers his head.

The angel's face shines with a sad coldness as he raises his blade. "I offer you cessation," he says.

It is the last the knows, and the end of an era.