Drizelous was still sobbing—loud, ugly sobs that echoed off the high vaulted walls like a mourning song sung by someone who had forgotten how to hope.
His entire frame was curled in on itself like a withered petal, crumpled at the base of the ornate clothing chest that once held Florian's ceremonial outfit.
His hands, pale and shaking, clutched the ruined fabric with a desperation that bordered on reverence, as though sheer will alone could stitch the shredded seams back together. His tears soaked the once-elegant sleeves, staining silk with salt and sorrow.
Across the room, Azure—the tiny blue dragon—sat on the edge of the bed, head tilted, his wings twitching in mild agitation.
His eyes, narrowed in confusion, watched the dramatics with a weariness only a magical creature could muster.
'He looks about ten seconds away from flying into another dimension just to escape this.'
