"A little," Myron replied, his voice measured. "Their legends, at least. They're creatures of dominance, aren't they? They have this unmatched ferocity."
Jolthar's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Dominance," he repeated, as if savouring the word. "Yes, that's exactly what they are. And it's exactly what power should be."
Myron raised a brow, his smile deepening. "Is that how you see it?
Power as dominance?"
Jolthar tilted his head slightly, his smirk lingering. "Isn't it? Power means absolution. It's the natural order."
"The natural order," Myron echoed, his tone carrying a subtle note of challenge. "And what happens when the one at the top falters? When their strength wanes, even for a moment?"
"Then they weren't strong enough to hold their place," Jolthar said simply. "It's survival of the fittest. The weak fall, and the strong rise."
