Droplets of sweat run streaks down the ash stained face of Lord Chardris. Blasts of flame leap from his hands with deadly might and accuracy. He can feel power surging behind each strike. Jorhdawn, his daughter, and the other members of The Nine fight by Chardris' side. Never before have all Nine joined their strength at once, never before have has there even been a ninth , the mystic energy flowing through Chardris is so great his flesh crawls with it. And still, it is not enough to keep back the wolves. They drink from the twin moons of harvest. The Dire Stone is slipping from the grasp of the Elves.