20. Clara
20
CLARA
E yes were upon her. Hairs stood on her neck and arms and her skin became bumpy. Nero had said he was always following. She believed it, but she never saw signs. But then again, he only showed when he chose to.
This presence she felt could be an enemy she had made within the palace, or even someone belonging to the Pythia. Despite the Pythia’s urgency, Clara kept her answers vague, and she was sure, infuriatingly so. She simply reported that information was scarce, and she was still looking. It wouldn’t be farfetched to send a spy.
Alastair’s words the previous day shook her. Drakonis was so important to his people and his country. Was she sure about him being the Heir? No, but there was a strong possibility. Gavril thought so, and she suspected Empress Yelena did as well. No other being in Ouroboros had a dragon like Drakonis. No other’s eyes flashed the way his did, and every time she was with him, she could hear the sweet song of the Drakaina. She felt simultaneous peace and passion when she physically touched him, but when she was around relics, and occasionally in her dreams, she saw a shadow following him.
Clara wrapped a simple green cloak around herself, pulling up a hood. It was a last-minute decision. She longed for the warmth of the kymuruh that Drakonis had gifted her. But the green won out in case she needed to hide.
Whoever this new guest is, they will not deter me.
She would avoid Nero unless necessary. Just like others, he cared about his own goals. Clara didn’t care if he considered them noble or good. Until she knew the future, she would protect Drakonis.
“Clara!”
Drakonis and Alastair broke through the tree line. They had no weapons, but long bags tied with rope.
“We will be traveling in the skies,” Drakonis answered her mental question. “We cannot very well travel in dragon form with weapons in our claws, otherwise we will be seen as a threat.”
The thought of massive dragons carrying blades was a terrifying vision. “What are those?”
Drakonis’s eyes left hers, and Alastair giggled.
“Clothes,” Alastair answered. The ones we have on will shred once we transform. We ‘ad to be sure to bring an extra pair so we don’t traumatize tha women and children.”
Clara blushed. The image of a naked Drakonis came to mind. Her fingers twitched remembering the rippling muscles under the clothes. She had seen glimmers and felt them, and it was unlike any of the fit men that ran around Xenakis, or the merman of Oceanus. Her heart hammered as she imagined how far those purple scales of his went. The outlined his pectorals and the muscle of his heck and cheeks. Did they also outline his abdominal? She had seen them raise from his skin but how did they feel? Like glass or diamonds?
“Ahem.” Clara cleared her throat, now unable to look Drakonis directly in the eye. This man was throwing her into too much confusion.
The kiss in the dracora blossom festival started her every dream. And with each dream, she allowed Drakonis to kiss her a little more deeply. And, she too, became more bold. For one day she allowed herself to be “Clara”, but she always hoped for an opportunity to replay that moment. To indulge in her fantasies would hinder her mission, but with one look at Drakonis she was willing to chance it. Maybe being on his back, in his dragon form, would be different. If his gorgeous face wasn’t in her sight, it could be out of sight out of mind. “Will it not be inconvenient to take me along? This is a mission, right?”
“We have some unruly farmers in a region up north,” Drakonis answered. “We plan on keeping things as peaceful as possible. But to answer your question, no it won’t be inconvenient.”
“I can carry the weapons m’lady,” Alastair added. “But we would appreciate it if you held on to our clothes while we flew.”
Clara nodded. Alastair gave her a reason to look away. She approached the bags and became rigid. Drakonis took the string, tying them around her waist. With every move an alluring aromatic smell hit her nose, a light woodsy spicy scent with a floral undertone. She bit her lip to hide her moan. In her mind, she wanted to grab the side of his face and kiss him once more, curious to see if it would be as delicious as last time. She balled her fists and her heat beat faster. Please don’t let Drakonis hear it.
“Is it too tight?” Drakonis asked, his warm breath grazing her neck.
“No, your highness,” she said. Her fingertips fluttered along the knots at her waist. The two bags had weight but weren’t too heavy.
“It seems you forgot how to address me,” Drakonis said. His face moved closer, mere centimeters from her ear. “Do I need to punish you?”
Yes, she answered in her head.
Butterflies filled her stomach. It seemed he wanted time with her as well, no? Was she misreading the way his large claw hand grazed her arm, or the sparkle in his blue eyes? Her legs and hands shook, and her spine stiffened. Focus on the mission now Clara . When we are in the room, alone, we can explore this.
Leaves rustled in the distance. Clara shot her head in the direction, scanning the area the best she could. There was no wind and no animals. Someone had to be near and following her. Nero would not make such a mistake. Which had to mean it could be someone from the Pythia. And she would not give them the chance to use anything against Drakonis.
Clara stepped back.
“I am addressing you the way I should, your highness.” It was true, even though she didn’t want it to be so. She loved calling him by his name at the festival. She wanted to explore this time of flirtatiousness with him. “Time is of importance, yes?”
Drakonis quirked a brow. She saw his eyes flash gray then back to blue. He was conversing with his inner dragon again.
“Very well,” Drakonis pushed. “Alastair?”
Ripping cloth echoed upon the wind and silver shimmer surrounded both men. In mere moments the two humanoid dragons became beasts she only heard of in stories. It was easy to tell who was who. Alastair was large and deep cerulean with black eyes and a white narrow iris. Drakonis was massive. Standing about twenty-eight meters from nose to spiked tail, his body was covered in deep purple scales, the color reminiscent of eggplant, with an amethyst belly. His wings, almost the length of his body, stretched out, starting dark and tipped with the same lighter purple of his underbelly. His clawed feet were shaped like a cat’s coming to a point at the heel then angling down. She felt so small, especially as Drakonis brought his head, then body, to lay flat on the grass.
The air from his nostrils blew her hair and cloth like the wind. She expected a rancid smell, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
His wings laid flat, the middle laying at her feet.
Get on my back. She heard an unfamiliar voice in her head.
“Drakonis?”
I am who that resides within him. I communicate his thoughts while in this form.
Clara reached out, with trembling hands, to touch the wing. It was tougher than it looked, like a rough hide.
“How do I get up?”
“Climb up the wing and sit on our back. Hold the scales along our neck, and you will not fall.”
“Won’t I hurt you?” She spoke aloud. It was uncomfortable to allow the inner dragon to advise her when this was technically Drakonis’s body.
“Drakonis and I are one,” the dragon answered her silent thoughts. “You are such a tiny one. It will be as if I have a bird on my back.”
Clara’s eyes scanned the tree line and she tried to, discreetly, look behind her. With a final breath she stepped on his wing. Her legs wobbled a little, but she tried to take as light of steps as possible.
Fan shaped scales stood along his spine. They were almost black and glimmered against the sunlight that peaked through the trees. She sat between two of them close to his neck, securing the bags at her lap.
“Hold on tightly,” the dragon said. His great head snapped up and his body jumped from the earth. Clara let out a squeak the higher she went.
“I’ve never been so high,” she mumbled. Elly had told her of flying through the sky with her husband, and the feeling of freedom she got. Clara always believed that it would get cold and uncomfortable. But now she could close her eyes and feel the wind against her face, and the warmth of a dragon under her.
The grand forest was becoming a mere dot. As they flew, she saw the waterfall that she had purified at. The flower gardens that she always walked with Lord Alastair looked like a looping symbol from up above, and the castle was in the distance getting smaller.
It is as if I am gaining my own freedom from those below.
Alastair blended in with the sky as he let out a roar, zooming past them and looping in the clouds. In his claws were the weapons she had seen on the ground, the edges wrapped in muslin.
Desire within her burned. The clouds she always looked at looked fluffy and magical. The dragon had told her to hold on tight, but she wished that she could reach her hand out and run her fingers through the pillows. Were they as delicate as they looked? Was it possible that she would feel anything at all?
In the distance, the golden dracora trees came to view. From above, she saw they were surrounded by light purple.
“I don’t remember the purple,” she said.
“Drakonis took you only to the dracora blossom trees. There are wisteria too.”
She had read stories of wisteria and the purple flowers that flowed in strands like the waves upon an ocean beach, but she had never seen it in person. The beauty of Ouroboros could truly rival Oceanus.
Clara smiled and grazed the base of his dragon neck.
I wanted my time to quicken before but now I wish it would slow. Clara thought. In Herrlof she saw her sister flying with the gargoyles. In Oceanus, she saw the merwomen swimming with their lovers. Now she pictured days in the sky with Drakonis.
If I asked, would he take me to see the wisteria? Drakonis was a prince, but he did find time to sneak away with her in the wood when she purified. If she let Caius know in advance, could she convince him to see the outskirts of Oceanus with her? Just as he had shown her so much beauty, she could show him her world.
“What were you weary of earlier?”
Clara felt the deep compelling voice inside of her mind. She wanted to sigh, pushing away thoughts of them holding hands and exploring.
“I do not know what you mean.” She was surprised he could hear her with the loud whistling of the winds.
“You were disturbed before we departed. Your pulse increased. You were not as you normally are.”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” Clara answered. She was frustrated. What could she tell this dragon that she really did not know? That the gargoyle king Drakonis was allied with is trying to rush her on her mission for safety, and the Pythia is hunting for the Heir for her own personal benefit? She did not know for sure and did not want to make assumptions especially to a powerful royal figure. That could lead to political ramifications.
“Has Drakonis offended you?”
“He could not do such a thing. I should thank him for how comfortable I’ve been during my stay.” And for entertaining me in my dreams. A rumbling laugh filled her mind. It brought a smile to her face.
“I decide what I tell Drakonis. If he has offended, you that I can correct him.”
“Correct him?” Clara did not get a response to her question. “Correcting is something you do to children. Drakonis does not need such a thing.”
“Explain why then you have been so odd since the festival.”
“Why must I answer you?” Clara challenged.
“I can drop you to your death.”
The statement could have sounded threatening, but she could hear a lightness to his tone.
“We both know that you won’t do that,” she said. The dragon’s head turned towards her, his cat like eye cutting towards her. Sharp teeth showed against pinkish gums, a snake like tongue sticking out. He blew fire that formed little balls around her head, popping like bubbles. Clara laughed, pushing her billowing hair from her face.
In his own way the dragon seemed to be trying to cheer her up. Would it hurt to give him a little? It could ease the awkwardness of the flight.
“My mission will be coming to an end soon. I did not intend on making friends, but it seems Drakonis will make my goodbye harder than I anticipated.”
“You know who the Heir is?”
Clara had to choose her words carefully. She could not tell a lie, but she also wanted to protect Drakonis.
“I find myself no longer desiring to find him,” she said. “I was ignorant before of what it truly meant to find the Heir. Recently, I have learned the dangers Ouroboros faces, and I do not want to be a catalyst in another town’s destruction.”
She did that once in Xenakis by not stopping Elisora. She rationalized that Axel’s one life could not be lost, but the saved man destroyed her family in the worst way. Drakonis was becoming more important to her with each day. His family ties may be shaky, but it was still his family.
“You had a vision of a war. An enemy that could only be defeated by the Heir.”
“I know other powerful people. We can find another way.”
She could tell the dragon was pondering. She told him the truth, albeit a half one.
“We will be close to the Ancient Ruins.”
He was challenging her with the temptation. She laid her head upon his scale. Her hood had flown off and her black hair was flying behind her, loose strands around her crown covered her eyes. The Ancient Ruins would have so many answers she sought. But how could she ask Drakonis to take her to such a place? She would get some the missing answers she sought, but Drakonis would not be able to help the farmers. And it would not be right to ask him to face a place with such horrid memories. She wanted to see Drakonis happy while she was here. Their relationship had changed, and never again did she want him looking haunted or in despair.
“We must focus on the mission at hand.” A sudden thought stuck Clara. Since the dragon was being so chatty… “Why is Drakonis the only one that has an inner dragon like you?”
“All dragons have an inner soul like myself. I am the only awoken one.”
“But why?”
The dragon paused before answering. “They will be awakened when the Heir awakens.”
The Heir…
“Do you know…?”
Alastair let out a roar that shook the skies. Ahead Clara saw a line of smoke coming from land. The dragon’s wings flattened as they descended. Her stomach flipped. She grasped the scale and bent her head. Nausea ate away at her. She could handle the weight of ocean depths but not this.
“Breathe in and out through your nose,” the dragon purred at her.
Clara tried to picture anything to chase the sickness away. The chill from the wind slapping her kept her rooted.
She jumped off Drakonis’s back as soon as they touched the grass. She found the closest tree she could, put her hand on it and bent her body, fighting the vomit that was making its way up.
“Worry not for Drakonis. His time in this current life is nearing its end.”
Clara looked over her shoulder, eyes wide. The dragons stood proudly. Its eyes flashed colors again before puffs of smoke filled the forest, making it seem like fog.
His time in this current life? Was his dragon clairvoyant? No… she had never read such things in the stories. But then again, the only dragon history she read was the history the emperor wanted her to know. The only one that could even determine a fate such as this was Phaedrus, and he was in the Underworld. First the Pythia, then Nero, and now his own dragon. For once, why couldn’t the Fates show her a future she wanted to see?
“Uhhh Clara? We need the clothes?”
She was pulled out of her reverie by a voice she knew all too well. Standing in front of her were two very naked warriors.
“Eeek!”
She spun and threw the hood over her head. Drakonis said her name, but she was too caught up with what his dragon had said to her to notice. Alastair’s laughter heightened the embarrassment she felt.
Her hands fiddled with knots. She froze when she felt large hands at her waist untying the knots.
“S-sorry,” she said.
“Your mind has been preoccupied today,” Drakonis said. Every breath and touch felt like lightning in her veins. A brief look at his nakedness confirmed her suspicions. Drakonis was the most attractive man she had ever seen. She was right. The purple scales indeed lined his defined eight lined abdomen. His wide naked chest was a treat for the moment, and his waist was narrow. His thighs were deceptively defined and could each be larger than the size of her torso. And…
She gulped. Drakonis threw some clothes towards Alastair. He took a couple of steps but did not move far. Clara wished there was a mirror nearby she could peak at. Discreetly, she pushed her hood back from her eye, but only saw his long black locks.
Drakonis turned to the side. His long-muscled body stretching as he pulled a tunic over his head. Clara shifted side to side. She now saw why women would want him, one reason as long from her fingertips to elbow.
“Give us just a moment. We will tell you when to turn around.”
Gods help her, she would never want to be away again after this. Her dreams of Drakonis started at a kiss, but seeing his physical perfection like this they were going to be fierier then she had ever had. The man was charming, a strong warrior, a noble that could find joy among his people, and had the most beautiful male body she had seen in three countries.
She had told his dragon that the goodbye would be hard, but her whole life was sure to be ruined. How would she ever find a husband that could compare to this perfect dragon prince?
“Drakonis…what is this?” Alastair was grim as he looked at the horrible scene before them. Clara gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. It was a scene very familiar to her from a few years ago.
When Drakonis had said it was a farming city she did not think she would see something like this. The bones told of a once grand city, aged by Kronos and the elements of Gaea. Buildings made of sandstone stood between two and three floors of height with turquoise painted along the edges. They were not brilliant but added to the character of the thin rectangular windows that lined each wall. Domes of green sat on top of flat roofs and had the wyvern symbol engraved in thin copper along the most center part.
A building in the distance was sturdily built with dark green material and emblems carved, and colored, vertically. To the side of it were two statues: one a copper dragon and one of a siren. Different than the ones at the capital, the dragon had grand horns that arched behind its head with raised spiky scales, four rows of teeth and pointed ears at its head.
What was most unusual was that the streets were completely empty. Not a dragon, or animal soul was to be seen or heard.
“There’s blood,” Drakonis said. He walked down the cobblestone road, a little dirt kicking around his feet. Clara followed close.
Upon a dais in the center was a long vertical statue, simple in design with the imperial emblem. What looked like laws were visible for all to see.
“Where is everyone?” Clara asked.
Drakonis had said this was a farmer’s land that was on the brink of rebellion. She expected to see stands of barely, vegetables, fruit, or even cattle and sheep. But there was nothing. Just an abandoned town.
A dull ache began in her mind. Her third eye pushed against the skin of her forehead.
“Watch out m’lady!”
Clara tripped over a rock. Both Alastair and Drakonis caught each of her arms and the vision began.
She was sucked in a tunnel, everything in shades of brown. The buildings around were on fire, dragons in sepia blowing from their great maws and other dragons trying to escape the chaos. Humanoid and half transformed women and children were running to the wood, screaming and trying to help those that had fallen. Soldiers in heavy armor grabbed other women and forced them into buildings despite their wails. Men and boys were getting decapitated and gutted, all while a male voice bellowed: “Get them all! Not one should be left alive! This will be but another village that falls to the ages!”
“Stop,” Clara murmured, grabbing the sides of her head.
This was too real. This was like Xenakis. The flames. They were everywhere.
Blood arced through the air as people ran past her but, unlike in Xenakis, there was no sea kingdom to escape to.
“A gold coin if you can get ‘em in the head,” a soldier said, standing on top of one of the flat roofs.
“No!” Clara turned to try and warn the woman and man running for their lives. “Look out!”
But it was too late. No one seemed to hear her, and two arrows went through their heads.
“Stop it! Stop it!”
She bent down, her knees hitting uprooted tile and dirt. She couldn’t do this again. If any survived, they would only suffer with guilt. They would be consumed by hateful feelings and sadness. They would live on physically but be too broken mentally. Just like Romanus who hid it anyway he could. And Elisora who had practically died twice.
A man caught her attention in the close distance, trying to pull himself up from the ground. Without a thought she began to help him up. Both legs were broken, and his face was sliced down the middle, skin falling from the skull. But when she tried to grab him, her hands went right through him. A soldier approached, a sadistic smile on his face as he raised his sword and…
“Clara! Clara!”
All three eyes were opened wide, staring up towards the skies. A shadow of a head blocked the sun. Instead of sepia, the world around her was colorful. There was no blood. No fire. No soldiers or broken dragons. Only two pairs of eyes.
Our creator is gone
Our king is here
May the ones that do not obey burn at the pyre
Hellfire will enflame
But the gods will remain
To fight for the weapon
Of the underworld and skies
Clara bent down and clutched her ears. Why did she come here? Why did she agree? She would have faced Kazimir instead of the blood and blasted voices filling her mind.
They were the same as the ones in the royal library. Was this the Drakaina? Drakonis’s dragon had said the Ancient Ruins were near. Was she seeing these things because of that? Was Phaedrus’s power that concentrated?
“Clara?”
Drakonis was near. His touch never drove her to a vision. Why was it happening now?
“Clara what do you see?” He grasped her shoulders. She felt his long fingertips. She fell to instinct, holding them against her chin. His thumb escaped grazing her chin. She bent down and kissed it. She wanted to escape to the festival and those quiet times with Drakonis. Her heart couldn’t take this again.
“F-fire,” she forced. Her body trembled. “Bodies. Dragons.” Tears fell down her cheeks. Drakonis would fight in this There was a chance he wouldn’t make it. Once more she would lose someone she cared about to chaos. “M-make it stop Drakonis.”
“Clara, we will stop this from happening.”
She didn’t know anymore. Her third eye was still present with no sign of it disappearing. Sticks cracked in the distance. She jumped. Were there soldiers here already? Was this related to the eyes that watched her at the palace? Who the hell was following her? Elly and Romanus were so far away. Nero said she could only call upon him once to save her. That meant Caius, her youngest brother was the nearest. But where would she find the oceans? A river?
Strong arms tried to wrap around her. She froze and pushed at his chest.
“Unhand me!”
She may have been going a little mad, but she could not show this new weakness to him. If she did then it would only give her new enemy power over her, and an opportunity to hurt Drakonis. He was too important. More important than her and what she believed that she felt.
For a moment he looked hurt. His head snapped up in the towards a group of buildings.
“Alastair!”
Drakonis forced her to his chest and jumped a far distance. They both looked over his shoulder and saw an arrow. Someone had tried to kill them?
He grabbed her again, jumping as multiple arrows were being shot towards them. Alastair had the same luck. Every time he got close to a building something came hurling towards him.
“Show yourself!” Drakonis bellowed.
The arrows stopped but a sound from up ahead was getting louder.
“Drakonis!”
With all the strength she had, Clara hurled herself at his abdomen, pushing him out of the way. Her ankle twisted but, luckily, was not broken. Drakonis was on his back, and she was nearly straddling him. Behind them, rocks had fallen, landing exactly where they stood.
“I, Drakonis Isaurian Aslanov, dragon prince of Ouroboros demand you to show your face!”
Drakonis’s eyes were flashing dangerously. He cradled Clara, his muscled arms holding her firm. His chest rumbled with every growl. The serpent within him left his body in a shadow wrapping around her shoulders watching the area with rows of sharp teeth tinged with a green shadowy poison.
“Your highness its dangerous.”
“If I must release you, you will stay by my side Clara. That is an order.” This was the Drakonis of the battlefield. His voice was tinged with that of the dragon she had spoken to today.
No more things flew or fell. A fire signal was shot from the top of a building. Drakonis stood Clara on her feet, half shielding her as he withdrew his curved blade. Alastair jumped to his side with one sword in each hand, shielding Clara’s other half.
Little heads popped up from between the buildings and roofs.
One dragon male approached the middle of the street bowing at the knee towards Drakonis. He had a head of messy red hair with silver eyes and scales. His pupils were like those of a cat with high cheekbones and a pointed cleft chin. A deep scratch went down the right side of his face, the scales along it looking like they were busting out from beneath his skin. He was simply dressed in a tunic and pants and a gold earring hanging from his left pointed ear.
“What is the meaning of this Basil?”
Drakonis knew him? Why would someone he knows do this?
“Forgive me your majesty. I ordered the attack not knowing who you were.” The man did not look apologetic.
“I find it strange that a Baron is out here,” Alastair said, approaching him, putting his blade up to his neck. “By shooting at your prince I could rightfully behead you.”
“I would advise you not to, or you will lose the information you seek.”
The man was calmer than Clara would have expected considering the danger. But she had seen enough bloodshed, even if it was just a vision. She clutched Drakonis’s sleeve. She breathed in his scent and attempted to calm her mind at the rhythm of his heartbeat. His hand at her waist soothed her, moving in circles.
“Explain,” Drakonis pushed again. “And that is the last time I repeat myself. If your information is unsatisfactory, I will not stop Alastair.”
“Lord Belisaurius instructed me to come here,” the man, Basil, began. “There was rumor that Lord Dagron and Lord Valen were planning something with Zillah. We knew not what it was, but figured it had to be for Prince Kazimir.” Drakonis bared his teeth. She did not fully remember who these lords were, but it was clear they were enemies. “I came under the guise of finding more temp workers for our newest granary the empress commanded, but my real mission was to find out about money, and specifically, what was it that Prince Kazimir wanted.”
“That Belisaurius kid isn’t one to meddle in politics,” Alastair said.
“He learned much being Gavril’s assistant.” Drakonis interjected. “Work in the open so no one will recognize what you are doing.”
Basil nodded. “The people here were being exploited your highness. A plague is spreading, but it is not natural. Those that weren’t ill were suffering from starvation and weakness and could not do their tasks. Irrigation has dried up; animals have been slaughtered for survival and the normal barley deliveries have not been arriving.”
“Where are the people now?” Drakonis commanded.
“They are in hiding in the wood. I have written a letter to Lord Belisaurius and he has assisted me in redirecting resources to restore survivors to health.”
“Why did you attack us upon our arrival?” Drakonis asked.
“There have been soldiers coming in and stealing the goods that have remained. In revenge, I have turned an eye to those that have killed them.” Clara was surprised at the directness. Either this man was an idiot with no talent for keeping secrets or had great trust in Drakonis. “Your highness, there is something here that Prince Kazimir wants. I believe it has something to do with the rumored Heir.”
Clara’s heart stood still.
“Why do you believe that?” Drakonis questioned.
“This village is the closest to the Ruins. It has the ancient magick that so many like to ignore. With the arrival of the Pythia’s oracle, it has panicked some that the prophecies are true. It is well known that this village has loyalty to you since they were the ones that harbored you after the trials.”
“Enough.” Drakonis cut him off. Gavril told her a little about this. It was a time that both Drakonis and Kazimir had changed. A time that the gods were supposed to choose the next Crown Prince.
“The people are well hidden?”
Basil nodded his head.
“Keep with your mission,” Drakonis decided.
“Drakonis,” Alastair said.
“I have been noticing for a while that Kazimir is after something. His ambitions for the crown are beginning to make him dangerous.” The two could not see but Drakonis’s free hand dropped, grabbing hers, and clutching it tight. She squeezed back but kept her eyes set on Basil and Alastair. “I will send word through Nero. I will ask Ragnar to have a haven for those affected. In the meantime I want you to find, or build a way, from Ouroboros to the designated location.”
Clara’s head snapped up. Drakonis knew Nero was near?
Basil’s eyes glittered, and a wide smile appeared on his face. He looked like a child with a new toy.
“I will do as you command.” Basil bowed again.
“You will continue to take direction from Belisaurius. I will meet with him upon my return. But take no action until you hear from Nero. You know what he looks like?”
“He is the most infamous of all the gargoyles, and one that controls the same fire as the dragons. It is hard for me not to…”
“Very well.” Drakonis cut off his praise. “Alastair, follow Basil to meet with the others. I need a full report on how they are doing.”
“What about you?” Alastair questioned. Clara was as confused as he. Drakonis finally looked down at Clara. When she met his eyes, he squeezed her hand again.
“There is no other choice for me. I need to return to the Ruins.”