Suddenly, in that moment, a small bitter smile formed on the monarch's face. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at the beast pacing in slow circles below them and said:
"That one…" Dracos said quietly, "was once a Frost Dragon. One of ours. It fell long ago during the last siege."
He paused, letting the words sink in. "And yet it lives. Half mind. Half madness."
Nox glanced down again, taking in the creature—the corrupted armor, the ragged breath, the barely restrained violence in its twitching limbs. Its body still carried hints of its old form—ice-blue scales buried under the corruption spread by the Scourge Alpha itself.
"How many more are like it?" Nox asked quietly, his eyes still on the beast.
"Too many," Dracos said. "Hundreds. Maybe more. But only a few remain this strong. The rest are broken in mind and body."
Nox looked at him and said with a trace of anger in his eyes, "And the Court? They know all this?"
Dracos nodded. "They've always known."
