CHAPTER 64: A TRUCE

Drakon felt an icy chill wrap around his spine as His surroundings began to blur. His head throbbed, and he felt as if he was being pulled apart and put back together all at once. With a sudden, jarring lurch, the spinning stopped, and Dracon stood in a dense forest. The modern world dissolves into a haze of colors and sounds until he is plunged into a scene from long ago. 1817. The atmosphere was full of tension, the unmistakable scent of fear. Drakon stood on a blood-soaked battlefield, the sky above roiling with dark, angry clouds. Wolves and witches clashed with a ferocity born of centuries of hatred. Snarls and growls mingled with the crackle of magic, the atmosphere filled with the sound of combat. Drakon's eyes scanned the chaos until they landed on a figure he recognized from old portraits: Gordon, his forefather. Tall and imposing, Gordon's presence was commanding even amidst the turmoil. Drakon watched as Gordon moved with purpose, going through the fray towards a solitar