The Primordials needed to be found.
Dravok knew where some of them were. That knowledge should have been useful. Instead, it sat out of reach because going to them now would likely get Trafalgar killed. The survivors hated, feared, remembered, and carried old wounds with names attached to them. His mother's name might be one of those wounds.
His own existence might be enough to make them reach for a weapon.
So that door remained closed for now.
The academy. Valttair. Esmond. Vaelion. Selara's homunculus. Void Creatures. Primordials.
And, because the Morgain family apparently refused to be outdone by ancient horrors, there was Rivena and Lysandra.
Trafalgar's mouth tightened.
'That is the one I like least,' he thought. 'What is that bitch planning?'
