It was almost dusk. In the palace garden, once prepared for the royal wedding, now it was an incredible disorder caused by the crowd that had run away. King Typhoon Draconian sat on the makeshift throne, placed there for the wedding.
He had watched the play of lights in the sky until it went out about two hours ago. Then he continued to sit there watching, waiting to see which of his sons would soon be seen coming out of the forest or flying victoriously in the shape of a dragon.
Time passed and, neither Wrenn nor Drake appeared. The crown was beginning to get heavier on Typhoon Draconian's head. He took it out and began to admire it. How could such a beautiful and coveted thing be such a great burden?
