Dread had emerged once the lights had gone dim. He'd been unable to find anyone in Monoceros, and with his inability to happily sun himself on his hot ledges, he'd crept again through the uncomfortable, armor-strewn tunnel that led to Orion.

He'd lifted off, glided, and then landed some distance off the Tower, where he listened for a time. But nothing more had spoken into his head. It must have been that little thing, after all, he thought to himself--recalling the fox that had peered up from below, professing ignorance as words had whispered and grated their way through the dragon's mind.

Now, however, there was nothing.

Now, it was safe.

It was time for a second round. With a quiet swish of leathery skin and a few soft-bass-whoomph-wingbeats, Dread took flight once more. He landed not-so-quietly on the tower, a thump of his weight and then the scratching of his talons announcing his arrival. Once again, he began to clamber over it, doing his best to find the crystals that shone faintly along its stone skin, and trying to dig and bite them out.