Adam's crimson eyes remained fixed on the pale figure before him. The man's presence was one of cold stillness, as if he had long since stopped caring about the warmth of the living.
"Before that," the man said, his voice soft and unhurried, "I haven't introduced myself."
He studied Adam for a moment, those grey eyes empty and calm.
"I am Eisendrache. Frost Dragon of the South."
Adam's expression didn't change. "I'm Adam. A monster."
The barest hint of a smile touched Eisendrache's lips—a cold, hollow thing that didn't reach his eyes.
"You call yourself a monster. Bold of you."
Adam met his gaze evenly. "It's what I am. From the moment I was born, I've been a monster."
Eisendrache was silent for a moment, as if weighing the words. Then he inclined his head.
"So be it. Then you should understand why I'm here."
A flicker of irritation crossed Adam's face. "What is this warning?"
