Krarvathar had been created to kill. He still remembered fragments of his father, Baræshadã, the day of his creation, the command imposed upon him, and the power he had been granted.
And now, here he was. Not even a full day had passed since he had flown over the city and burned part of it. Yet something had happened: his very existence had been struck by the God of this people, and he had been given a new form.
Krarvathar finally wondered whether his awakening had been something his creator had left dormant inside him, or whether it had also been caused by the pharaoh's God. And if that were true, did it mean that choosing not to kill was the right path — and not merely a denial of who he was?
"So you're a God?" asked the frail boy. "You look like the one with the lion's face." The child lowered his head, afraid he had insulted the dragon and unnerved by Krarvathar's steady gaze.
"No, I am not," Krarvathar replied. He found the child curious — such a small being asking so many questions. Several children were gathered there with their parents and masters.
"But the lion-headed one protects the pharaoh. Aren't you the pharaoh's protector? That's what everyone is saying," pressed another child, a girl with long dark hair and frightened eyes. Her mother held her protectively in her arms.
"Daughter, say the right name!"
"I forgot it…" the girl answered, embarrassed.
Uras'Diptsur smiled.
"Maahes. He is one of our Gods, and he certainly protects us. Sometimes, however, he sends his lions to punish us."
Krarvathar noticed the parallel, but he was no lion. He was a dragon.
And he was there by his own will, even though the pharaoh wished to return to the palace. Neftraya had suggested to Uras that she accompany him, while she herself had withdrawn. The people had shown great interest in Krarvathar, although soldiers were already escorting part of the crowd away, urging them to return to their tasks — the city could not remain at a standstill.
"You said you could sense them. When they—"
"Do not worry, Pharaoh. They will arrive this afternoon, and I will be far from here when they come. I will go to meet them," Krarvathar replied, watching the boy wave goodbye while other adults observed him from a distance.
That seemed to comfort Uras. The pharaoh no longer had any doubts.
Krarvathar could consider allying himself with humans, sparing them, and even admiring them in a way. His relationship with them made his newly awakened consciousness more active, as if he truly were one of them.
But not the elves. If he had been created to kill, then the elves were his natural prey. Something inside him stirred at the mere thought of them — an instinctive rejection, as though his very essence denied their existence. He had tried to deceive the old elf Jóarnaliel, but without success. And that Thswoner was coming for him. If his feeling was correct, they would arrive before nightfall.
"You said you wanted to go to the palace," Krarvathar remarked.
"Yes," the pharaoh replied. "There are matters to resolve. I want you to come with me, and we will decide what to do more carefully."
Krarvathar nodded. The pharaoh ordered the carriage to be brought. He would ride with Krarvathar to the palace and wished for everyone to see them together.