Chapter 95: Gathering Storm
The afternoon sun filtered through the stained-glass windows of Gorthmorde Manor's common sitting room, casting flecks of blue and gold across the wooden table.
Hannah sat slouched in a high backed chair, Katrina curled into a soft ball of white cloth on her lap, the tiny fairy banshee letting out a quiet, contented nyaa every few breaths.
Ren had forgone his small camouflage form entirely, lounging lazily on the floor beside her feet, his black scales glinting in the light his presence no longer a secret to Mike, Bart, and Mimi, who'd long grown used to the dragon's casual arrogance.
Bart leaned forward, elbows on the table, his broad, calloused hands clasped tight.
He'd been quiet all morning, staring at the floor as if wrestling with a weight too heavy to say out loud. Now, he lifted his head, his jaw set with a resolve that made the others pause.
"I've been thinking," he began, his voice rough but steady. "About what we do next."
