Terren Alrose had been tracking the Frost Fang for the past two moons when he finally caught up to him. He had him in a backalley in Archill, the man's frost-covered hands breathing mist into the warm night air. Terren looked into his eyes, his cold sapphire eyes, and he hated them. He knew he had found him, the man who killed his father.

He had a stark jaw and his skin clung so tight to his skin that he almost looked a skeleton. His face was a bit wide, as well as his nose. He stood as tall as Terren, though much thinner, and his black hair hang loosely from his head to his shoulders.

"So you're the one who's been tracking me. What do you want?" His voice was deep and rugged.

He doesn't even know who I am, Terren realized. "I've come for your head," he looked down, "and those hands of yours." His voice was deep too, but smoother.

"You must be a Dragon here to avenge the one I slew. Well, I hope you like disappointment because I am no ordinary Artist. I am Master Artist Bastion Corigg, my skills are beyond the likes of you."

He still doesn't know. Terren looked into the man's eyes once more, "It is you who will be disappointed, for I am no ordinary Dragon. I am Master Terren Alrose, first son of the late Master Koen Alrose, but you will not live long enough to speak my name."

"I see, so you're his son, the great Black Dragon of House Alrose. It makes no difference, being a Master of House does not make you a Master Artist. It is said that you breathe smoke rather than flame. Smoke that devours flesh and bone alike."

"I wonder which hungers more, my smoke or your frost?" He gave a wicked smile as a few wisps of smoke escaped from his mouth.

"Let us see then, shall we!" Bastion came at him, Terren reached into the bag that hang at his right hip to grab one of the round glass flasks he had stashed in there. Five, he remembered, I only have five. The Frost Fang was upon him before he could draw the flask, he felt a chill begin to creep down his chest as frosted fingers wrapped around his throat. Terren opened his mouth and blew a cloud of smoke in the Frost Fang's face.

Bastion screamed and swore as the flesh from his face was devoured by smoke. He touched his hands to his face, covering it in a thick layer of frost and stopping the smoke from eating his flesh. "So it's true, that smoke has got some bite to it after all. ****, that stings." He flinched as he touched his frosted left cheek.

Terren had no reply for him, he drew one of the flasks and hurled it at Bastion's chest. Bastion was quick in turning and the flask flew past him and shattered on the ground, releasing the smoke it contained. He came at Terren once more, the young Dragon threw another flask at him, Bastion ducked with a sweeping kick and brought Terren to the ground. He tried to get up fast but he could not find his footing, the ground was slick with ice. Bastion grabbed his left leg but Terren brought his right to his face and he staggered back. Now, Terren threw another flask, it shattered against the Frost Fang's chest and the smoke began to eat through the leather vest he wore. His chest was bare in seconds but the smoke continued, beginning to open a hole in his chest.

Bastion's screams echoed through the alley, scaring birds that were perched on walls and rooftops. Terren heard justice in those screams. Justice for Father, he thought as he drew Frostbane from its scabbard on his left hip and walked toward Bastion. The screams stopped when the smoke reached his lungs, he fell to the ground silently writhing in agony. Terren stood over him and rested his scarlet blade on the Frost Fang's neck, "Now... I'll have what I came for." In one swift strike he removed Bastion's head from his shoulders, then he took his hands. He dropped the last flask on his body, giving it to the smoke, then he sheathed his sword and put the Frost Fang's head and hands in his bag. He was a bit of a challenge after all, he thought.

It appeared to Terren that the Frost Fangs wanted war, and he felt it past time to oblige them. Of course, he would have to call for consent from the other four Dragon Heads. House Forax had always been the more bloodthirsty of the Houses, he had no doubt that they would consent. House Shahk was the youngest of them and would love the chance to earn their honor in a war. Houses Chaqe and Rook had had their fair share of wars, but if they saw cause...

And he had his cause now, with the Frost Fang's head they would see who killed his father. Terren knew he had to return to Perosia immediately. If he remembered correctly, there was an airship port not far from him in the North District. He began to make his way there moving from backalley to backalley. He hated having to sneak around the city like some common thief, but he could not risk being seen. If he were, the entire city would be up in arms against him and it would have all been for naught.