Draygon Inferno | Book 2 | ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Six

           Siobhan didn't have time to process the fact she was back in the once warm halls of her childhood. She kept her eyes focused on the flapping red cloak of the Vanguard general leading them down the narrow hall to the meeting room where her father once held court. So many memories filled that space, but she could allow none of them to come forward. One hand rested on the hilt of her dagger, the other hung loose to her side, but her fingers were within inches of grabbing one part of her staff behind her.

The Crimson Cloaks swarmed her and Ayla as they lead them to where Siobhan hoped Kaylis waited. When they'd arrived outside of Draygon, Siobhan immediately sent a bird to Kaylis asking to parley. A response came within the day. Now, as the sun rose high outside, Siobhan was ready to face the evil that had taken everything from her.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to scream, cry, or chop everyone's head off and bathe in their blood. When it came to thoughts of her former matriarch, the latter seemed far too simple a solution. A quick death was too easy for Kaylis. Siobhan wanted to do more. So much more.

She released slow and steady breaths, trying to focus her mind on kinder thoughts. If she thought of anything else, she didn't know if she'd be able to control herself. To kill someone during a parley was to sign her own death warrant. Nobody would follow her if she broke the cardinal rule of temporary peace. A parley was supposed to be a final attempt to avoid war, where all parties could meet without threat.

When they came to the massive arched oak doors, Siobhans heart fluttered. Though she saw her family crest many times over the years, to see the warring dragons in the figure eight pattern etched into the dark wood made her face warm. Her eyes followed the curve of the pattern, stopping at the faces of the two dragons. It suddenly had new meaning to her. No longer did it just stand for her family heritage, it was now a symbol of her people's rebirth. Siobhan would ensure they'd rise from their ashes and come back as something stronger. Something better.

And if it took Kaylis' blood to do it, she'd have no qualms with that.

"Welcome, daughter," Kaylis said as Siobhan stepped through the threshold.

She just about choked on her air when she saw the damage done to the once grand meeting hall. Gone was the statue of the Goddess watching over them from behind the thrones. No longer were the drapes coated in her family crest. The windows didn't fill the room with the suns glow and the pillars weren't lined with the gold and purple ribbons that once gave the room life.

Now the room was cold. Void of any color but the crimson of the lowlands. The symbol of the wyvern etched in gold fabric within the center of each tapestry hung from the pillars tops. All the windows were covered, the stained glass behind the thrones once coating the room in majestic hues of gold and blue and purple were dull and lifeless, though the dragons circling the Goddess was still painted within the glass. It was just no light showed through it, as if it was blocked from the other side. A feat that was impossible for any human to do. Even a Vanguard Mage would've struggled to do it with their magic. It was far too high for any to reach. Everything was lifeless.

"What? No greeting for your mother?"

"You lost the right to call yourself my mother when you killed my father." Siobhan desperately hoped her voice was steady, firm, void of the insecurity coursing through her. There would be no negotiating peace, she knew that, but she couldn't allow that fear to fill her words. Kaylis had to believe she was confident so Siobhan had to continue to act the part. Though much of her wanted to curl into a ball and cry. The women before her had taken everything. Siobhan clenched her jaw, swallowing back the warmth burning through her.

Kaylis sat on the once throne of Marcus, noble leader of the Draygon, and Siobhan's loving, doting father. The troll of a woman slouched sideways with one leg hanging over an armrest. She twirled a scepter in one hand; an emerald decorated the top of a wyvern spreading its wings on the end of the scepter. Siobhan's eyes rested on the emerald for a second before returning to the hideous face of her former step mother. Her fingers twitched by her dagger.