A universe away from the hospital, the Beastworld roared on.
The Palace of the East was completely devoid of the suffocating heat of the Dragon King's aura. The grand, cavernous throne room, carved entirely from dark volcanic rock, echoed with the low, nervous murmurs of the elders.
Sitting directly upon the Throne, his posture perfectly rigid and his dark green eyes burning cold was Drax.
The new ruler of the East was barely twenty years old. His draconic fire had not yet reached its apocalyptic, world-ending potential.
But as he looked down upon the gathered council, his authority completely dominated the room.
Drax did not lead with Zarek's volatile rage. He led with an icy, calculating precision that the elders found significantly more terrifying.
