[I sense your doubt toward the Elar'Gyra.] Mirage's voice echoed in his mind, patient and deep. [They are not gods—only a fractured consciousness, born of their ambition. Once a race close to the Eluwyn, they reached beyond their means… and were twisted in the other realm.]
She paused, as if thinking further before speaking.
[What remains now is a singular mind—merged and bound by the laws of the Otherworld. They exist only to preserve their wisdom… and prevent their madness from spreading. They are not what they once were, child.]
It was then Fay realized—his dragon was no ordinary creature. To even know of the Elar'Gyra, a race his teacher had only spoken and referred to as the Ancients, meant Mirage was far more than he'd assumed.
[I can read your mind. And calling me "old" is not very nice.] The dragon's tone took on a hint of amused scolding. [Now, let us begin the pact. Only then will my aether truly stabilize within you.]
Her voice grew firmer.
