The hero remained unnoticed at her cliffside vantagepoint, but she was finally able to get a clearer view of the combatants below. Two had been torn in half by the drake's talons, or maybe it's teeth, and it was clear that they weren't ordinary knights and archers, they weren't even alive! No flesh, merely skeletons -- they were the undead, terrible looking things. She crouched down, no longer wanting to be seen. Thankfully for her, they'd gotten what they came for. The drake was now wreathed in green, vile flames, corrupted by some unknown dark magics. And then, in another less-blinding flash of light, they were all gone.

She scurried down the less-steep parts of the cliff, reaching the site of the confrontation. Little was left. A wrecked catapult, a stray sword, and a large tooth, collateral damage from the battle. At the least, it was proof that the beast wouldn't be harassing the village again, and she pocketed it. The darker truth was that a much larger threat was building somewhere, one that would require many Heroes to confront. She decided to leave a few details out when she reported back to the village elders.

The Drake's Fang briefly glows with the same dark green energy you saw in the memory, and then fades away. One more mystery of the past solved, one more busy night for a scribe back at the Archives once you tell the tale.