Lucius did not look back, but stared down at the piece of his grandfather’s face. He touched the kind eyes, and walked toward the stream where he placed the mask upon a boulder lit by sunlight.
“Don’t listen to him, Lucius,” a voice said as someone approached Lucius from the crumbling domus he had just left.
Lucius turned away from the mask quickly, his sword up, to see a man in a red legionary tunic walking toward him.
The older man was strong-limbed and calm. He moved easily, as if unburdened by pain or regret, and he smiled tenderly and with pride as he looked upon Lucius.
Lucius lowered the sword and sheathed it. “Grandfather?”
The legionary nodded. “I’ve been watching you, Lucius. We’re all very proud.”
“Who?”
“The dragons,” Avus Metellus said.
“Dragons?”
“Yes. We are, all of
