Drakion continued his journey westward, his steps steady and unhurried, until his path was abruptly halted by a vast river that cleaved the land in two. A crowd had gathered at the water's edge, yet the number of people had been halved compared to those who had initially entered the dragon ruins.
It seemed the beasts of these ruins were far more formidable than they'd appeared. Drakion had yet to clash with any of them—his overwhelming Draconic aura had been more than enough to silence threats before they could act.
As Drakion scanned the area, he spotted members of the Vorr Clan standing apart from the rest, isolated and heavily watched. Eyes clung to them like shadows, and the air buzzed with tension.
He strode forward through the murmuring crowd, whispers trailing behind him like restless spirits. Many were stunned by his unexpected appearance.
