The great hall of Drakonis Keep lay wrapped in unnatural silence. Not the peaceful hush of mourning, but the heavy, suffocating quiet that comes when even the stones themselves hold their breath.
The queen was dead and that alone was enough grief to break a realm. But the dragons which are the ancient guardians of the royal bloodline had refused to appear.
No thunder of wings, no curl of smoke from the mountain peaks, no fiery silhouettes circling the spires in solemn vigil.
The skies above the keep remained empty, and the people whispered that the dragons were either locked away in rage or punishing the king for some unseen sin.
Rumors raced through the corridors like wind through dry grass. "Have they been sealed in their lairs?" one servant asked another. "Or are they furious at King Aden for letting the queen fall?" No one had answers.
The gates of Drakonis's realm had been barred tight for days, refusing entry or exit to any outsider.
