For all the things Keiser had endured these past days, betrayal, waking up as somebody else, mana, curses, pain, and fated death, nothing had ever truly shaken him. He'd learned to look past agony, to numb himself to loss and cruelty. But this… this was different.
For the first time in a long while, his composure cracked.
His thoughts spiraled, a flood he could barely contain. Is this the dragon? The one he is looking for? The one that was supposed to be his, bound to him, to the blade they forged from betrayal and blood?
Is this where Gideon found it… turned it into his sword, the Dragonhilt?
If it was… then his mission had just shifted. His plans, his careful outline, they were all about to be rewritten.
This wasn't a setback. It was revelation.
He'd thrown a single stone and hit every damned bird in the sky.
"Your highness…" Tyron's voice trembled beside him, but Keiser barely heard. His pulse was roaring in his ears.
Without another thought, he moved.
