Maybe she was crying for the one small dragon she had loved.
“Who is he?” she breathed, gazing at the creatures soaring above.
“You don’t know?” said Max. His face was bloodless, his eyes wide.
She opened her mouth to say no, but again realized that wasn’t true. The signs were there, painfully obvious if she’d bothered to look.
“Valerion,” she murmured.
“Impossible,” said Seba, staring aghast at the dragon. “The bogspectre is evil! It feeds on its victims’ souls and rots their bodies. It’s ancient. It has terrorized the Galantasa for ages.”
“For ten ages,” Effrax said slowly.
“We don’t know that. That’s only when history began to be properly recorded,” Seba shot back, her voice high-pitched in desperation. “The bogspectre might have been around long before that. And how could it be
