The halls were decorated with ancient runes that pulsated with tiny bits of magical energy, making them seem alive. Statues of different dragons lined the perimeter, showcasing the residents' reverence for these majestic creatures. A man stood in the midst of this hall, looking at the windows with his hands behind his back.
"Hmm, I wonder what's happening? Why haven't I been receiving word from the dragons?" he mused. His hands started sweating, but he quickly heaved a heavy sigh to clear the tension. "There's no way they caught Ghelgath, right?" he thought.
Suddenly, a battlemage rushed in and quickly bowed his head, preparing to deliver a message. In this household, no one spoke without permission.
"Speak!" Lord Eamon declared, causing the battlemage to raise his head slightly, only for his eyes to meet Lord Eamon's.
He shivered, but then Lord Eamon calmed him down. "It's okay. What message do you have for me?" he asked, his fiery eyes lighting up.
