The room was filled with a sad silence. Jonah stood before the huge, beating heart of the Golden Dragon, and he could feel the creature's loneliness pressing on his own soul. He had come to take some of its power, to tear away a part of it. But he couldn't.
He was a Weaver. His power came from a partnership with his creations, a bond of trust and respect. To harm this ancient, imprisoned being would go against everything he believed in. He would be no different from Thorne or Sterling.
The ancient consciousness in his mind became active. It sensed his presence, his unique power. It recognized him. It felt the clean, natural frequency of his God Mark, a power so different from the artificial, draining energy of the Divine Serum and the prison that held it captive.
It didn't sense a jailer in him. It felt... a friend. Another creator. A child of the universe.
You are not one of them, the feeling sounded in his mind. You are like me.
