Zyron's Pov
When I arrived at the Black Dragon estate, the night air was still sharp and cold. Even the fortress is always the second or third time I've been here. The giant picture still shoots down my spine.
Two dragons carved out of blackness, as if to protect the iron door, showed their open mouths in a forever-snarl, and their eyes shining with rubies that caught the moonlight. A fortress was creeping everywhere behind them, the one that was made of black stone and red flags, the one that was the shelter of the mountain, the one that was the strongest, yet, the one that was the most ancient. It was a citizen who was living there with his past, and through the walls lived history, while each stone was a whisper of the century, when my grandmother first set up the empire.
