Void let out a long, heavy sigh, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose where the pulse throbbed like a drum. In his hand, the parchment roll listing the manifestations of the Ael'Vurin race was already covered in messy ink scrawls. Glen's decision was insane. No, beyond insane. Handing over Trigia, the ancestral land of dragons, to a pack of wolves? Madness. And the worst part? Glen hadn't even bothered to discuss it with him.
"That bastard really thinks I'm his servant," Void muttered under his breath, rubbing at his aching forehead.
He had just stepped out of the grand hall where all the Ael'Vurin races had gathered, heading toward the chamber where Etien and Glen were waiting for his progress report on relocating the wolf clans to Trigia.
"Sir Void," a voice called. Low, hesitant, unusually uncertain.
