H
adjar didn’t need to ask. There was a certain resemblance between the warrior in white and the old man. Not an external one, but rather, an internal one. Their aura, even after all this time, was still the same. No matter how ancient the White Dragon looked now, there was no doubt that if they’d somehow returned, he would’ve been fighting against the endless host of alien creatures.
“Good times,” the old dragon rasped.
“With all due respect, Great Ancestor,” Hadjar bowed at the waist. “I don’t understand why we’re here…”
“Look,” the old man pointed ahead instead of answering him.
There, among the high clouds, a bird was hovering. It soon landed on the shoulder of the fighting White Dragon and, after dropping a scroll it had been holding in its beak into his hand, flapped its win
