A week had passed since the incident at Hollow Creek.
The tales spread faster than Auryn could control. The Third Prince had entered a demon breach alone and emerged victorious.
He'd claimed demon territory as his own and became a wrym in the process.
The details of the story was ever fresh depending on who told it, but one thing remained consistent.
The third prince Auryn Ignisar had done what most dragon nobles wouldn't attempt until they were rank Dragon themselves.
Aurelia was rapidly changing too. The Cold Flame Pavilion stood nearly complete in the centre square, its spiraling columns visible from every district.
Construction crews worked day and night, driven by wages Auryn paid from his own coffers and the quiet pride of building something that would outlast them, something no one in this world has ever seen or built.
The city felt different now. It was less like a neglected backwater province and more like a place with goals and direction.
