The Wind Dragon then tilted his head toward Fafnir. "And you... older brother. I must apologize. In the old days, before the storms took me... I was among those who stood with Ignisar. We opposed your path. We thought you a heretic to our bloodline. I was wrong."
Fafnir's golden eyes softened. He reached out a clawed hand, resting it on Zephyrion's spine. "Forget it, brother. The wind has shifted. We are all that's left of the family's honor now."
Fafnir paused, his expression hardening. "Zephyrion... while you were lost in the rot... did you see him? Did you see Ignisar, the Flamebearer?"
Silence fell over the dragon's back, heavier than the atmospheric pressure.
Fafnir's voice dropped to a low, grieving growl. "He's one of the enemies now, Zephyrion. He's the reason the Black Rot almost took you. He's the Beneath One who acoordinate the ambush."
