Thunder raged in the sky, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing within his chest. His gaze was fixed on the ground, as he flew above the forest, the flapping of his wings drowned by the rumbling heavens. His eyes searched for any sign of her, but he was aware it would not be easy to spot her in the darkness. She was a ray of light for him, but with her raven black hair the night would easily provide her with cover. For the moment, however, he was mainly concerned for his people. For the dracones, who placed their trust in him. Who had faith, that he would protect them from all harm.
Azar descended onto the hill again, and a wave of relief washed over him. The sacred flower was at its perfect spot, and had not moved even an inch. It gleamed brighter than ever, and its mesmerizin
