Dex was pacing, every step keeping Aegon at bay. His jaw hadn't unclenched since the library.
Serena would have rather not woken anyone up. She would have rather gone back to bed, pulled the covers over her head, and pretended the last two hours hadn't happened.
Instead, she was sitting in a leather armchair in Alaric's study at four in the morning.
Fantastic.
Gav was sprawled in the chair beside her, his shirt still torn and stiff with blood.
His wound was healed, but the shirt was a lost cause, and he was making absolutely no effort to hide the damage.
In fact, he'd been offered a clean shirt twice. He'd declined both times.
"So," Alaric said, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, "Sterling can partially perceive it as a heat distortion. Drakenfell cannot perceive it at all but witnessed physical objects moving without visible cause." He paused. "The entity is hostile, intelligent, and capable of manipulating solid matter. Have I missed anything?"
