Alex looked at Kaelen calmly, the blazing red uniform tailored to a build that was as much gifted by nature as it was earned through years of relentless effort, crimson hair catching the fortress light, eyes the stark red of burning embers set into a face carved with sharp, handsome lines that made his arrogance considerably easier to sell.
Kaelen was the son of Ignovar, the fourth seat of power. And though Alex held no particular fondness for the man standing in front of him, he owed something real to his father.
After all, the dragon had trained him for some time, not sharing any wisdom, exactly, and not carefully imparting technique either. Ignovar's method of training had been simpler and considerably more brutal, pushing Alex relentlessly through fire in all its shifting forms.
Forcing him to fight without rest, forcing him to adapt without pause, shaping him one exhausting session at a time toward a confrontation with Zarach that, at the time, had felt impossibly large.
