Flying through the last mountain pass, the adventurers finally glimpsed their goal before them. Below there yawned a narrow valley: a cold, grim place. The thin and frigid air burned their lungs and made their heads swim. At this altitude, the dragons were barely able to stay aloft.

Ramshackle buildings sprawled in a chaotic jumble up and down the valley floor. Smoke drifted up from the openings of a dozen tiny cave mouths.

A narrow trail switchbacked up the cliff on the far side to a fortress made from the same black granite as the mountains: the infamous Last Redoubt. A short, wide structure, it had tiny windows like the eyes of a cruel and cunning beast.

As they flew closer, the bulk of the Redoubt loomed, squat and ugly, before them. No banner was visible atop its black stone walls, but even from halfway across the valley they could see what looked disturbingly like corpses on stakes.

Somewhere in the valley beneath them, someone screamed, faint and piercing. The sound echoed for a while, then drifted away on the wind.