While the black formation still writhed and howled, a figure dropped down beside Chiron.
Silmarien landed lightly on broken stone. His coat was torn in several places, streaked with blood and ash, and there were cuts along his arms and cheek—but his eyes were sharp, his posture steady. Whatever had happened between him, the dragon, and Arianna, he had survived it.
Chiron didn't look away from the formation as he spoke.
"How did the convincing go?"
Silmarien exhaled and rolled his shoulders.
"The dragon and Arianna are willing to hear what you have to say… for now. After that, they'll decide whether to kill you or not."
Chiron nodded once.
"Then you did well."
Silmarien glanced at the writhing city-sized formation, at the black aura chewing into the sky itself.
"…And what exactly are you doing over there?"
Chiron smiled faintly.
"Stealing a pet."
