Page 7 of Daring the Drakarn Warrior Lord
That earned me a slight smile. "A cynical view for a Warrior Lord."
"Sit through a council meeting and tell me otherwise."
Jalliun's smile widened fractionally. He was younger than Karyseth by at least two decades, his scales still vibrant green without the fading that came with age. But his eyes held the kind of weariness that had nothing to do with years.
Fighting battles within your own institution did that.
"The preparations are nearly complete," he said, shifting to safer ground. "The ceremonial chamber has been cleansed and blessed. The offering stones have been placed. All that remains is the blood-flame itself."
"And that's ready?"
"Nyx has been overseeing the final stages. You know how particular he is about the work." Jalliun gestured deeper into the temple. "He should be in the preparation chamber now, if you wish to inspect it yourself."
I did. Not because I doubted Nyx's competence, but because seeing the blood-flame, holding it, feeling its heat, made the Skalanth real in a way that reports and schedules couldn't match.
"Thank you, Jalliun." I started toward the passage he'd indicated, then paused. "Your position can't be easy."
He met my gaze steadily. "My position is to serve the Temple and the city. Sometimes those duties align. Sometimes they don't. I do what I believe is right."
I left him there, his silhouette dark against the crystal's light, and headed deeper into the Temple's warren.
The preparation chamber sat at the end of a corridor that sloped downward, taking me closer to the mountain's molten heart. The heat intensified with every step, pressing against my scales. Most Drakarn found it uncomfortable. I'd always liked it. Heat meant the forge, and the forge meant creation. Weapons born from fire and will.
I stepped through and found Nyx bent over the sacred forge, his steel-gray scales slicked with sweat and soot. He didn't look up, focused entirely on the piece before him. The blood-flame rested in a cradle of heat-resistant stone, glowing with an inner light born of forge fire.
Beautiful.
The gem was the size of my fist, multifaceted, each surface catching and throwing light in shades of red and gold. It pulsed like a heartbeat, warm and alive. Legend said it had been cut from the mountain's core when Scalvaris was first founded, blessed by the original priests, bathed in the blood of the firstWarrior Lord. The blood-flame was sacred, and retrieving it from the Temple's heart was the goal of the Skalanth.
Nyx turned. Soot streaked his face, and his wings hung loose with exhaustion, but satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.
"Warrior Lord." He inclined his head, then grinned. "Come to check my work?"
"Come to make sure you haven't burned down the Temple."
"The day's still young."
I moved closer to the forge, feeling the heat wash over me. The blood-flame's glow intensified as I approached, responding to presence the way it always did. Some said it recognized warriors. Others claimed it simply reacted to intent. I'd never cared about the why, only the what.
"It's perfect," I said.
"Of course it is. I'm not some novice." Nyx wiped his hands on a cloth, leaving gray smears. Then his gaze caught on my hand, and his grin widened. "That's new."
I held up the ring, letting him see it properly. "A gift."
"From your human." Not a question. Nyx had always been perceptive. "Fine work. Vyne's?"
"Terra's hands, Vyne's guidance."
Nyx whistled low. "She worked the forge herself?"
"She did."
"And Karyseth probably lost her mind seeing it."
I laughed, the sound echoing off stone walls. "She did."
Nyx circled the forge, checking seals and temperature levels. "The blood-flame is ready for placement. I'll have it moved to the inner sanctum before dawn. Then we wait for the novices to try their damnedest."
