So much for that sword. Vesemir would probably have a conniption if he knew exactly how Lambert lost it, but then a dragon swoops in and derails that train of thought completely.

Lambert raises his arms to shield his face against the debris and hot air blown about by the sudden rush of wind. When giant bodies hit the lava and disappear, it's almost anti-climactic how deathly quiet it suddenly is, compared to the roar from earlier. It goes on long enough he can't help glancing at the elders still held back, hoping they don't get any ideas, because Lambert's down one silver sword and that would really suck.

But it's the dragon that emerges victorious, and if there was any doubt of her identity before? The way she consumes that heart gets rid of the last of it.

"Well," he says out loud, to nobody in particular. "Glad we didn't have to do that."