The acolytes nearly fainted when they saw Krarvathar approaching. The servant collapsed to the floor, sobbing, because she had known Lizhireri. Neftraya remained standing upright, her hands stained with blood. She looked directly at the dragon.
"Lord Krarvathar, I was waiting for you."
"She is dead." Seeing someone dead felt strangely unsettling to the dragon. He had killed many in the past and had certainly caused deaths during his attack on the city, as well as some soldiers after being transformed into a human. But looking at someone he had known, lying dead and not by his hand, intrigued him.
"Yes, I killed her." Neftraya let out an audible sigh and showed the puncture wound in her abdomen. The brown skin was stained with black blood at the site, but the injury already appeared to be healing. "She attacked me after making several accusations and declaring that she would abandon her duties. So I had no choice." She met his gaze without changing her calm expression.
Krarvathar crouched down and ran his finger across the young woman's wig, then closed her wide-open eyes. He recognized her: The girl who had helped him.
He remembered feeling greater than fear from her when Neftraya had brought her to him — a feeling of respect, admiration, and adoration.
"Yes, it is like what Uras and the others feel toward their Gods. She saw me as a God…" Krarvathar thought, understanding. When she had made contact with his mind, he had felt her looking inside him, revealing the memory of the blinding light of the sun as a fact. That fact no longer seemed so strong now.
"You used her," Krarvathar said, rising and looking at Neftraya.
"I told you she had sacrificed herself for you. I tried to help her, but she refused. She was angry — an anger she gained by serving you."
She glanced at the acolytes, who remained silent, and ordered them to leave.
Krarvathar observed her. He felt something he had never experienced until that moment, but the Meanings soon provided the answer: guilt. Yet his rational mind began its analysis:
"I had no knowledge that this would happen. You brought her to me."
"Yes, indeed." The priestess stepped back a little and walked toward the nearby window. A warm breeze entered and left the room. "Perhaps she would have been fine if I had not intervened," she said, looking at the blood on her hands.
"So that look of confusion I felt was you."
"Yes. Amophf," she said, facing Krarvathar. "A God. Not like DiptsurRá, but something more… useful. A creation." She gave a closed-lip smile. "Just like you."
Krarvathar then understood what had felt strange to him since the first time he had seen that woman: he had been deceived by her.
"No, no, no," her smile turned into a soft laugh. "Are you thinking that I deceived you? No, my lord." She stepped closer to him. "I have always told you the truth."
"You said you would help me return to my original form," Krarvathar replied, trying to understand without letting himself become enraged.
"And I will." She opened her arms slightly, raising an eyebrow. "If you continue to trust me."
Krarvathar stared at the human woman who was trying to convince him. For a moment, his instinct surged with the urge to kill her — his hand would strike so fast that she would not even see death coming. But he held himself back and said:
"Then tell me what you want with me, woman. What do you gain from this? Who are you and your God?"
They looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds.
"How about we go somewhere more appropriate? I am covered in blood and… we should not discuss this in front of the dead girl's body, should we?" Neftraya wiped the sweat from her cheek with the back of her hand.
"Let me take a bath and dress properly. There is still time before our enemies come to kill us, isn't there?"
She started down the corridor, and Krarvathar said:
"That God of yours will not save you if I decide to kill you, Neftraya."
The woman stopped and looked at him, smiling.
"Then I simply need to give you no reason to consider it, don't I?"
The priestess stared at him for a moment. Krarvathar understood what she meant: he was a dragon who now acted more through thought than instinct.
"Please, come with me."
Krarvathar took one last look at Lizhireri's dead body and followed Neftraya.