But you don't fucking know me homie you don't want war.

[Wolfbane]

GRAPHIC WARNING

WOLFBANE

Everything around him is moving so fast that Wolfbane can’t keep up. The crash of one horse barreling into another as it jumps in front of him and he skirts around, a mare and her foal streak past the opposite way but he digs in and keeps running. Rain lashes in stinging pricks across his face and into his eyes but he doesn’t care: his world is focused on the flickering boy and the dragons. Please, hear me, he cries out to his Gods, the ones far beyond his reach and of the old world.

His wings flash out in a brilliant spray of water and the color white, pure and fluttering though they cannot lift him. One wing is still yet to fully heal, though he pushes past the pain anyways.

The small speck in the sky solidifies and his deepest, darkest fears take hold and choke him. They claw their way up his throat and keep him from going blind while the rest around him seem to separate in confusion. A shadow creature, or maybe some other little being cracks apart underneath his mud-soaked hooves and bursts as he gallops overtop it, pushing and pushing and pushing.

Wolfbane tries again with his wings and they nearly lift him, they nearly have the strength to take him up.

Gale.
Gale, his sweet innocent Gale. Tender Gale who loves his sister and his brother too, the smallest of his and Lepis’ triplets and the one who seems most striking in his infant beauty.
Gale screams and Wolfbane joins him.

The bone of his right wing snaps into place and he shoves into the air, forcing himself through the mindless chaos in the sky to get to the volcano. Never has he pushed himself this hard or this fast, nothing else consumes him but his son and the need to save him at all costs, even at his own life. He would die a thousand deaths in a thousand different ways but to lose Gale would be the slowest, most painful of them all. Hold baby boy, hold! He pleads in his mind, watching his son fall farther and farther, faster and faster. HOLD! He yells without words, diving just as the brindle babe falls past the puckered lips of the gaping summit and into the molten gut.

His eyes follow and he sees wings, he only sees the wings when he plummets into the searing heat to reach out and grab. The blistering pain of touching the sun’s surface is comparable but he couldn’t care less because his mouth is tight around the bend of Gale’s magnificent wings, tugging the boy free.

He doesn’t notice that his own are on fire, like a brilliant angel of death that breaks free from the molten liquid to soar up again. He doesn’t notice how light his beautiful boy is or how easy it seems for himself to shed the ashen feathers and grow new ones on his way home to Loess. He doesn’t want to look. He only sees wings because that’s all that remains: Gale’s wings, and the blackened cusp of his child's fleshy spine.

United with Lepis || Warrior of Loess || Father to Five

@[Lepis]
tl;dr: Bane was unsuccessful and has left the battle to carry his son's remains home.