The night in Greenwood Forest had grown colder.
Mist drifted slowly between the trees like wandering spirits, and the faint glow of moonlight filtered through the dense canopy above. The forest that once felt calm and alive now carried a subtle tension—an invisible weight that pressed against the air itself.
John could feel it.
Perched atop a jagged rock formation overlooking the riverbank, the young black dragon stared into the distance, golden eyes reflecting the pale moonlight. His wings were folded neatly behind him, but the muscles beneath his dark scales remained tense.
Someone was moving pieces.
And he intended to find out who.
Below him, the three cloaked agents from earlier knelt on the ground, their weapons discarded. They had learned quickly that resisting was pointless.
John's massive presence alone was enough to crush their will.
Smoke drifted lazily from his nostrils as he observed them in silence.
