Ashwing stirred against Lindarion's neck, his voice rushing into his thoughts like a child half-awed, half-afraid. 'Lin… she means it. This isn't just some blessing. She's offering to change you.'
Lindarion's eyes narrowed. "Change me how?"
Elyndra didn't flinch. "You will become more than what you are now. Your affinities, already vast, will deepen. Your core will strengthen beyond the mortal scales of measure. But power always comes with weight, Lindarion. If you accept this, you will walk a path from which there is no return."
Silence stretched.
The golden flame swayed in her palm, filling the chamber with a low hum, like the heartbeat of the Tree itself. The carvings of the Dracyn glowed brighter, their wings spreading wide, shadows of a people lost but not forgotten.
Lindarion's pulse thundered in his ears. He thought of the humans chanting his name in the caverns, desperate and blind.
