The silence of the infirmary weighed heavily on Draco once Frost Winister departed.
The echo of the man's last words—"I'll be watching you"—still rang faintly in the room, lingering like frost clinging to glass.
Draco exhaled slowly, trying to ease the tightness in his chest.
The glow of the hovering System windows hadn't faded, their luminous letters flickering like cruel reminders: Gain Jet Ashborne's trust. Never lose again. Repair your image.
Quests that bound him tighter than any chain.
He pressed a hand to his chest, over the faint bandages wrapped around his ribs. The ache in his body was nothing compared to the storm brewing inside his mind.
There were too many things he had to think about.
"Luke…" Draco muttered under his breath.
He had Luke's memories—fragments of another life that bled into his own. He remembered the pressing issue that his counterpart was facing on Earth at the moment: the Nine Headed Dragon Association.
