"Hah," Bastian said as he launched himself. "Blue is a sissy color, red is better."
I stood with Sarn as we watched them streak around, charge each other, and then miss by mere inches in an astonishing display of dexterity.
"I suppose it was your father who put the silver-is-better crap into your head," Sarn said beside me.
"It was actually my Uncle Drakon," I replied.
"I've heard of him. My father doesn't like him much."
My father didn't like his brother much either, but I wasn't going to tell Sarn that. "Drakon is a mighty warrior."
Sarn only grunted. "Do you want to fly?"
As much as I wanted to breathe. "Yes."
"Then let's join them. Do you breathe smoke yet?"
"Yes."
"Well at least you have that going for you. Bastian thinks he's hot s**t because he can do it better than me a
