Chapter 681

Chapter 681: Tower of Ilgalar

When they reached the gryphons’ resting area, the gray beast lying deepest within seemed to sense something. It stretched its long neck toward them as if trying to make out who approached.

Upon seeing Greed’s broad face, it immediately emitted a series of rumbling growls like a tractor starting up.

Though strange-sounding, this was how excited gryphons here vocalized. After hearing it often enough, Jesse had grown accustomed to it.

"Seems you two share some mental bond," administrator Buddy remarked. "Just look at him—he’s desperate for a flight when you appear! When I watch him, he does nothing but sleep!"

"I always said he should be mine." Greed planted his hands on his hips. "Right, Goergette?" Hearing its name, the gryphon responded with a raspy cry.

"Up you get, Jesse." Greed climbed into the secured saddle and hauled Jesse up beside him. Administrator Buddy stepped aside. "What’s this Deathwing they mentioned?"

"Powerful business." Greed patted the gray gryphon’s thick neck. "Fly! Goergette!"

The gryphon launched from its nest, claws scraping brickwork and dislodging rubble as it vaulted outward. Wings unfurled, stirring a gale that sent other gryphons into panicked shrieks before plunging into the black sky…

Across the Blasted Lands, barren hills and monotonous half-dead forests stretched endlessly… That day astride Goergette, Jesse’s combat-ready tension left no room for observing surroundings.

Now, though dusk approached, he calmly surveyed the horizon: the boundless Elwynn Forest, the Nazferiti River vanishing into gloom, and Stormwind’s gates shrinking rapidly behind them.

Clutching Goergette’s saddle as Greed whooped excitedly, Jesse felt the Grim Batol nightmare had been worthwhile.

The colossal gryphon’s speed defied belief. Landmarks of Eastvale Logging Camp—its camp, lumber yard, log piles and stump fields—whizzed by beneath while the sun still lingered, sky still deep blue.

By the time twin moons hung bright, Goergette reached Lakeshire…

Stonewatch Keep’s moonlit silhouette emerged ahead. The gryphon skimmed Lake Everstill’s bridge, then surged upward—so abruptly Jesse saw night sentries’ startled faces swiveling to track them.

"Stonewatch approaches, Jesse." Greed called over the wind. "Become Tower of Ilgalar’s master someday, and I’ll gryphon-taxi you here. Better yet—ride your own! I’ll teach you… Goergette likes you. He’ll hasten your lessons."

Whether understanding or merely hearing his name, Goergette beat his wings with a low croon. Master of the Tower of Ilgalar—it had weight.

Future tower upkeep might drain gold and energy, but envisioning solitary dark magic research within a mage tower thrilled him.

"I’ll learn gryphon-riding well," he vowed.

"You’ve the knack, Jesse—saw it when we flew from Hinterlands to Southshore!" Greed nodded. "Higher now, Goergette! Deny those gnolls even a hair’s touch…"

At Greed’s command, the gryphon climbed above Stonewatch’s walls. There, Jesse finally glimpsed the mage tower—just traces of red eaves swallowed by treetops.

Dwarfed by Stormwind’s Wizard’s Sanctum archmage tower, this structure seemed tiny even perched on a forest cliff. Night obscured it further.

Nearing, Jesse spotted broken windows yet caught dim light within—proof of occupation, likely a gnoll warlock.

Goergette ceased wingbeats, gliding silently over treetops to circle the decaying tower.

Sudden gnoll barks erupted below. The gryphon surged upward instantly, trees reclaiming the Tower of Ilgalar.

Clearly, Darkpaw gnolls dominated here. Seizing this magetower deep in their territory—especially with spellcasters inside—would be grueling. No wonder the king sought Wizard’s Sanctum aid instead of ordering Stonewatch’s assault.

"Back to Stormwind, Jesse?"

"Aye. My thanks for this, Greed."

"Think nothing of—"

As Jesse turned for a final glimpse, Goergette abruptly hammered his wings toward Stonewatch, jolting even Greed off-balance…

"What’s wrong?" Greed hissed.

The gryphon rumbled low. Greed scanned the night, comprehension dawning. "There… Jesse! Look north!"

Jesse followed the dwarf’s finger. Distant over Redridge Mountains, an indistinct silhouette dissolved into moonlit haze.

Distance shrank its appearance, yet Jesse knew—judging by Redridge’s peak dwellings—that shadow dwarfed Goergette.

Likely a dragonlet. A black dragonlet. Redridge’s black dragon scales and sightings weren’t new rumors.

Though Grim Batol fell, Blackrock Spire held fast to its black dragon alliance. Undoubtedly, years hence the Burning Steppes would become the black wing’s hunting ground.

Jesse’s talk with Nekros about Great Chiefs reconsidering black dragon ties? Mere bluster. He knew the Blackrock Clan neared total draconic subjugation—an unstoppable tide.