Days' worth of memories flashed past him, his vast mind observing every small detail they carried, sorting through them with tireless patience. When he felt there was nothing for him, he finally found what he was looking for.
The memory ground to a slow, deliberate halt.
Alex settled into it fully, letting the rush of compressed hours fall away until only one single moment remained, stretched out before him in complete and unhurried clarity.
Ignovar.
He looked exactly as Alex remembered him, tall, red-scaled at the edges of his jaw, eyes the same burning ember shade as his son's, though considerably colder, considerably more patient.
He wasn't dressed for war, not the way Alex remembered the old warlord carrying himself in every prior encounter. Instead, he stood wrapped in a plain red cloak, his form mostly hidden beneath its loose folds, the posture of a man who had come here to say something specific and nothing more.
