A low, yet threatening growl began in the back of Drystan’s throat as he stared at the man who appeared in front of him.
He was still weak from the Flamebane constantly running through his veins, and he was still shackled with the chains that pierced through his wings, keeping him in agony at all times.
But even after all that, the anger piercing his violet orbs made him look just as deadly and dangerous as the king that he was.
“You look like hell.” Nero smirked, standing a few feet away from Drystan’s head as he stared at the onyx dragon in front of him.
Drystan released a gruff in return, making the dust on the ground fly towards Nero, who only chuckled and shook his head; there was not an ounce of fear visible on Nero’s face.
“You are a fickle thing, Drys, I’ll give you that.
