Khellendros exited the Chamber of the Sky. He was shaken by the things he had seen, but he knew the course to follow. Already some of the visions were fading, the knowledge disappearing from his mind like dew evaporating in the morning sun. His sense of purpose though did not diminish. As the giant stone doors closed with a resounding boom behind him he was tempted, momentarily, to return to the chamber, to seek further knowledge. He went so far as to look over his shoulder, His long regal neck bending with a soft hiss of scale on scale. He regarded the doors, scarred by claw marks, scorched with soot, and melted ever so slightly in places. These were the only doors he had left as they were, unwilling to remove this last reminder of the abomination that had occurred here some 2000 years ago.

He thought for a long moment, about whether to return to the chamber, but finally he fought down the temptation, knowing that more than one member of the Sky brood, had lost their life starving in search of the knowledge held within that chamber. Turning forward he moved through the deep tunnels of the High mountain lair which was the ancestral home of the Sky Brood. Now it was the lair of the last of the Sky Brood. He had restored almost all of it to its prior grandeur, defending it, warding it, and masking it with arcane magics to rival the greatest of those cast by any of his predecessors.

If the Flame brood ever returned here, they would discover only death. As he had so long ago. He continued through the vaulted Grand chamber, moving through the heart of the mountain, and heading up to one of the secondary entrances. Finally he found the entrance he sought, with a mighty thrust he flung himself into the air, allowing himself to plummet for a short time. he enjoyed the sensation of the high cold air whipping over his body, clearing his mind.

With a thunderous boom he flared his wings short of the ground, feeling the stretch and strain of the incredibly strong membrane against the air. He curved upward, on his own momentum and began to flap. Something so large would surely be ponderous in the air, but no, he was more at home in the air than on the land, this was his domain. Only here was he close to being happy. He felt the weather around him, and reached out with his arcane senses, tweaking it so that it would become what he needed it to be.

THe clouds began forming almost immediately, a slight drop in temperature causing them to coalesce out of seeming nothingness. The updrafts from below stacked them, stretching them out. He felt the gradient building, the energy he needed to call those he had marked over the years. The rain began pelting him. He reveled in the cold wet sensation, the pull of his wings against the water. The wild power building above him. He had spent the last 2000 years fighting the tyranny of the Blood Flame Brood. Over the course of his travels he had met many whom he deemed truly worthy of the cause for one reason or another. Sometimes he had been told by the chamber of the Sky to mark one or another. But each knew him, and each would hear his call. Whether they would respond, whether they wold agree to what must be, that was up to them.

The power was building. It was almost time. He positioned himself, beginning to build his own power up, stoking it, feeling the electric sizzle within his throat, the burning mettallic taste of his power. Finally he could hold it no longer, and the clouds above him buzzed with their own energetic power. He felt the trace of where it would go, sensing it as others could see the flow of water through a river. Positioned in the middle of the flow he let loose to the sky, with an explosive resounding Roar and a flare that turned the darkened nightime sky to blindingly bright day for an impossible long second a bolt of lightning split the sky, arcing from the clouds high above to the Saphire Blue form hanging in the air, seemingly suspended by the Solid bar of light and energy arcing from the clouds to it, and from it, to the cave mouth where he had emerged earlier.

In the aftermath of the massive bolt, the smell of Ozone hung heavy, the air felt strange, as though it had been altered. And it Had. He flew slowly back to the lair, wearied briefly by the massive energy he had just put out. Already it had begun regenerating, but he would not be able to use his breath weapon for a few hours after such an expansive use of it, and he would be unable to recreate that feat for a few days. His purpose though was accomplished. Those he had marked would hear the thunder and smell the ozone. They would know what it meant, and would be able to follow the smell back to the lair. Those that wished to.

He returned to his lair, and settled in to rest, and to wait.