The green flames died down, leaving only wisps of emerald energy dissipating into the night air. The dragon's massive form stood amid the devastation—broken bodies, shattered stone, and the ruins of what had been an elite imperial force—a living monument to overwhelming power.
Jolthar's draconic head turned toward Milan, who stood behind his barrier with Andrion, both princes looking shell-shocked by what they had just witnessed.
When the dragon spoke, the voice was recognizably Jolthar's despite the harmonic resonance of the massive form.
"Milan, I need you to take me to Minister Richardus's house."
Milan froze, his mind processing the request and immediately understanding the implication.
Jolthar wanted to go after Richardus directly, to confront the man who had orchestrated this entire situation. Given what he had just done to five hundred knights and forty-five mages, what he might do to a minister in his own home was terrifying to contemplate.
