"You should have told me of your plan!" Leria grunted. "I have nothing to add to the pyre."
"It's fine." Aran shrugged. "It won't remind Grandpa Valtak of just me, but of all us Verhens."
***
Later, as the last bit of the sun slowly descended below the horizon, the Wyrms formed a circle and breathed bursts of Origin Flames until their lungs ran out of air. Valtak's corpse had already been removed and all the piles of treasure merged into one funeral pyre placed exactly over the Father of Fire's spot.
Each Dragon breathed their own Flames without mixing them with those of others, creating a multi-colored corona of fire.
To honor Aran's contribution, the Fire Dragons used Primal Spark on him and Leria, allowing them to use their mana to breathe bright yellow Origin Flames. A large blackened area now marked the floor as a testament to its previous owner.
