Web-like cracks appeared on the surface of the frozen skeleton, making Arthur's gaze snap toward it.
A second later, a deafening crack split the air as shards of ice burst in all directions, a gale of icy wind sweeping through and blinding their sight.
Arthur's breath caught as he instinctively stepped back.
In front of him and his mother wasn't the skeleton of a dead woman but a fully grown white dragon with golden eyes that looked divine.
The dragon glared at Arthur with a piercing gaze and said, "Why do you have the scent of my sister on your soul? Did you sleep with her?"
"What?" Arthur muttered, confused.
The demonic dragon lowered her head closer to Arthur's face, but even with his enhanced senses, he couldn't move or react.
His body knew instinctively that any movement would lead only to death.
The demonic dragon repeated:
"Why does Syr'Nathira's scent linger on your soul?"
