For a split second, an image flashed in her mind's eyes.
A scene from many decades ago. A scene much like this one. Where in the place of an ashen scaled dragon, there had been one of onyx scales.
A scene of brother turning on brother. Of a woman with eyes wild with bloodthirst and vengeance and a need to tear out the heart of the Dragon King by turning his most trusted on him.
A dragon he considered as dear as a brother.
A dragon he considered as dear as a son.
But it couldn't be, could it? She was dead! Xenon had sacrificed his own life to kill her! He had paid his dues by sacrificing what was dearest to him...love, for loyalty, and he atoned for his betrayal! He atoned even up till this day!
Yet at this moment, Neveah knew without the slightest doubt that this impossible thought she had was true. She knew exactly why traces of Verothrax's void were left on Xenon's mind. A kind of magic Verothrax couldn't have had after centuries in slumber.
