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Dad looked at the sealed gate again and made a deeply pained expression that showed he truly meant every word. He was genuinely in pain right now. Something so deeply ingrained in his heart was clearly tearing at him. What could be bothering him so much that it brought out such a rare and vulnerable look on his face?
"It's the tale of the dragon we buried here," he said at last, his voice low and heavy. "My little friend, and my strongest familiar back then… someone I received as an egg, a gift that the church of the gods gave to me as the Hero of Flames—a perfect familiar. Little Flamie."
"Little… Little Flamie?" I repeated, the name feeling strange and familiar all at once.
Father sighed and scratched the back of his head, as if the simple action could ease some of the weight pressing on him. "I used to have an adorable little pet named Flamie, yes… No, he wasn't a pet. He was my best friend. He was a Fire Dragon, just like Ignatius."
