The scent of sulfur and decayed magic clung to the air as the dragon wandered through the mirage market. It was an assault on his senses, dulled as they were in this form. He resisted the urge to cover his nose.
He could hear the faint whimpers and cries from cages hidden in the shadows, feel the tremors of fear that radiated from the creatures trapped within them. But it was the vile intent of the merchants that set his teeth on edge.
The dragon suppressed a snarl of disgust, his rage simmering just beneath the surface. These abominations, these petty mortals, dared to deal with horrors they could barely comprehend. He was no stranger to death or suffering—he had seen countless lives flicker out in the long centuries of his existence—but this place, this market, was different. It wasn't simply about survival or even power.
