He should have expected that strike, but Wrathion isn't used to such closed-quarters fighting against an opponent who outweighs him (if at all). It hits, and he stumbles a moment, tucking himself inwards to turn the stumble into a tumble, somersaulting forward with the gaff up near his body. The better to not lose it.

As the dragon regains his feet, unsteady for a moment, he whips his free hand forward, another one of those marble-sized fire orbs springing from it to soar upward into Zenos' face. It explodes but does no damage, only emitting a brief, brilliant flash of light with intent to blind.

He isn't ready to run yet, but he knows one thing: he does not want to be in range of that scythe with the full weight of an attack behind it.