Devin felt the very moment the dragon died. He felt as if he had simultaneously lost and gained something, which was an odd feeling, and one that he marveled at.

Then, at the same time, him and Conor doubled over in pain. Devin could not speak for how Conor was feeling, but he felt as if a raging forest fire was burning his chest, his lungs, everything. It shoved through him, and he found himself curling in on himself, on the ground and pressed up against Lynvok's still lukewarm scales.

The fire danced around his mind and everything at its core; his passion, his anger, his burning curiosity, his desire to succeed. It settled then, becoming a part of him, finding a home in his heart and mind.

Fire was not all that different from Devin Trunswick. It appeared to be a dangerous thing, frolicking this way and that and not hesitating to steal the liveliness from another. Devin had been called many things; cruel, hardheaded, uncontrollable, for he had fits of rage and he acted on it. To be a prince, his father had nailed into his head, you had to be in control of everyone and everything. If you weren't, they could twist and bend you into an emotional disaster.

But in the same way fire could heal, could restart an ecosystem, could warm others and keep them alive, the prince did the same. The world never had the chance to wonder how many times Devin Trunswick had comforted his little brother, had slowed his tears. How he had slowly brought together a rather dysfunctional family, or warmed the heart of an adventurer that would forever adore the friend he had found in Trunswick's future heir.

And so, the fire felt rather at home within the boy. Very at ease, indeed.

Eric Trunswick would never have admitted it, but seeing his son suddenly double over in pain caused his old, cold heart to skip a beat or two, worry striking his mind. He surged forward, intending to check on Devin, even if that meant coming within a meter of a dead dragon. Two, actually.

To his satisfaction, Devin was still conscious, but he seemed to be totally fixated on something in his hand. The king slowed to a walk, peering down at his son.

Devin's leg covered his cupped hands momentarily, as it was pulled up to his chest. But, when Eric noticed the small flame in Devin's cupped hands, in which his boy was staring wide-eyed at, his heart stopped.

"Well," he whispered, "I'll be damned." Devin nodded slowly, as if the very same thought was on his mind. Out of curiosity, or maybe fear, Eric glanced at Conor, only about two meters away from Devin.

"What in the name of Tellun?" the King murmured.