“Nobody will be making cinders of anybody else,” the Hierarch said, looking down at Aurora. “We fully realize the danger that your sister is in, and will do what we can to help, as we would for any of her kind. What of you? Do you require the same aid?”
The corridor split again, to the left and right, another speaking carving adorning the wall between the two halls. Justin sighed as the air began to thrum, tapping his foot as the voice spoke, the words a spidery tumble in his head. Silva’s gifts translated the verse:
Silva looked almost as shocked as the rest of my companions. Even still, we found ourselves going to one knee. All of us, that is, except Elder Ivonov.
“Impossible!” Ivonov snapped. “Rowena and Leansethar is a fairy story. They never really existed. Why… if they did, they would be…. thousands of years old by now. There are barely any dragons that old.”