In the quiet hush of evening, Xerxez and Matheros stepped into the temple, incense curling in the air as torches flickered along ancient stone pillars. Teacher Devein sat cross-legged near the altar, eyes half-closed in meditation. He opened them as the two approached.
"Teacher Devein," Xerxez began, his voice low with curiosity, "what do you know of the dragon bloodline?"
Devein exhaled slowly, as though releasing a burden.
"Well… that is one of Wendlock's most guarded secrets," he said. "The elders hide the truth for a reason. That bloodline once drowned the world in war. Countless centuries ago, the Draconian City nearly seized all life in their talons—but our ancestors fought them back with everything they had."
Matheros crossed his arms. "Yeah, I heard rumors. They say a survivor of that bloodline once lived here in Wendlock… and saved it. Is that true, or just some heroic myth?"
Devein chuckled, a deep, knowing sound.
