[color=00aeef]“…will never be allowed to leave this island."[/color]

Skagi bristled, the priestess's unvarnished words burrowing deep into their anxiety. He had a feeling that “never leaving” meant quite the opposite of [i]living[/i] on this island forever. Of course King Rosmund's mistake had been disastrous—everyone had heard rumors of what he had unleashed—but gathering warriors? For what? If what they heard had been true, seven fools with blades would never be enough to protect Elysium. It needed an army.

Hell, they needed actual fighters. Skagi was no warrior, whatever rudimentary tricks they had been taught in his childhood. What were they going to do, fiddle at monsters until they fled? Besides, his captors couldn't possibly know about Florian, right? They had no reason to believe Skagi was capable of killing. Surely not.

They glanced at the human—Trevor—reassured at least by his willingness to accompany them… not that either of them would be setting off to play instruments right now. The grim set of Trevor's jaw was enough to tell them he wouldn't be going down without a fight. Good. At least someone here knew what they were doing. The knife hidden in their boot felt immeasurably heavy.

When the priestess waved open the curtains, Skagi's heart nearly stopped. Eggs. [i]Dragon[/i] eggs. Enormous, dazzling eggs, vibrant and sparkling and practically thrumming with life. Light spun from their shells, fractaling in identical patterns from each and every one. He had believed the tales of monsters, but really seeing them, even their eggs, was… breathtaking. Frozen in awe, they laughed, perhaps deliriously. [color=ed1c24]“She wasn't kidding.”
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