His usual bluster was gone. His robes were torn, stained with dried blood and dirt. There were deep claw marks across one sleeve. His eyes were bloodshot, the golden hue of his draconic bloodline dimmed and dull.
Damien sat across from him, hands resting on his knees. He didn't respond right away. He didn't need to. He already understood.
The dragon clans had always stayed neutral in the great wars. They didn't consider themselves part of human civilization, even if they walked in human skins. They saw themselves as the watchers, ancient, proud, and far too patient.
Their history with the awakened beasts was complicated. At times, they had been enemies. But also kin. Some beasts were descended from corrupted dragon blood. Others still held secret pacts from before the rise of mankind's awakened.
They wouldn't choose a side. Not unless the world burned.
Damien nodded grimly.
"I didn't expect more from them."
