Marakai nodded. "I'll have to pre-warn you...it's not like you remember. Like I said, the lower levels are intact, all the way up to the shrines to the Three. Above that, though...there's nothing. My fight with Kranath, after he killed everyone...I think I did more damage than he. It's just collapsed rubble."
The area they stood in stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the mountains - a perfectly round plaza of worked cobblestones, laid completely uniform and flat. Against the side of the mountain in question, there was naught but raw stone, but for one round piece that was uncannily smooth.
The Prince moved toward this round stone, placing his hand upon it. As he did, it erupted into a brilliant blue light, and Marakai spoke, his words in rough, gutteral draconic.
"I am Marakai, last son of Trin. Following me is the Flame guard, Urra'vin. Allow us passage."
As he spoke, the flesh on his left shoulder began to ripple, the skin separating to reveal a mark Urra'vin would remember well - the mark of the House of Trin, the same mark that once flew on the Blackfire banners throughout the Aerie and high above, before the Peak was Shattered.
The stone of the wall began to fold in on itself, an ancient magic still present after several millennia. The opening created was truly massive, easily large enough for two transformed dragons to walk shoulder to shoulder.
"Well...here we are. I apologize for the honorific...but, that's how I think the magic would recognize you." He turned around to look at Urra'vin.
"Welcome home, old friend. I'm afraid it's not the happy place in our memories, though." He offered a sad, small smile, and strode into the darkness. Some distance in, he stopped, placing a hand on an ancient stone statue of a dragon - one of many lining this hall, ancient guardians long dormant, illuminated from above by a massive hanging braziers full of fire.
Looking up at this guardian, a worked statue made to look like the dragon form of his Father, a single tear rolled down the large man's cheek.