"He hasn't been here for at least several weeks," murmured Zhao, kneeling to examine the floor more closely. His fingers traced the dust patterns and cold ash remains. The owl feathers on his skin pulsed with mana as he enhanced his senses to detect any lingering traces of the King's presence.
He rose slowly, a knot forming in his stomach. Victor had assured him that the stubborn King had only one resting place. If Dragarion wasn't here, there was only one possible explanation: he hadn't returned from the platinum ring. The implications sent a cold shiver down Zhao's spine.
"Trouble in battle?" he wondered aloud, his voice echoing hollowly in the empty cave.
