— You have been restless lately. What troubles you, Damaeri? — asked Ifrit with his powerful voice in the darkness, his immense eyes as hot as fire shimmering and illuminating the shadows of the hall.
Near the colossal parapet of the gigantic palace built within the bowels of the largest mountain in Draconia, a woman, dressed in only a red sash covering her breasts and a red veil skirt, looked apprehensively at the city at the foot of the mountain.
— Something big is going to happen again — she replied in a soft voice. — Thirty-two years ago, you were right. The Olympians and those who joined the demons or died in the crossing were not the only ones; more of them will arrive... — the woman turned to face Ifrit's flaming eyes with eyes as flaming as his. Her face was small and beautiful. Her long hair cascaded from her head like smooth black veils. — The "otherworlders."
