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The lavender one in the centre, who was in fact the oldest and held the highest place in their trio, was Fionnlagh the Hidden.

His title didn’t come from being cowardly, but from having the ability to hide himself in any place. He’d killed many Witches and humans in his time by leading them into traps until it was too late for them to realise he was right in front of him.

He was respected by all. Unfortunately, he was stubborn and unmoving in his opinions as an Elder.

These three were the oldest of their kind that cared enough about their laws and traditions to want to become an Elder. More could join them and any one of them could step down.

There could even be just one Elder, but no Dragon liked having one deciding all fates without there being a fair chance for a trial. They often worked for the Dragon King and would speak to him about trials and events that went on over his people.

“You dare threaten us, Rurik?” Nayana sneered at him, stepping a paw forward in anger.

“I do believe I said it as a warning,” Rurik growled back.

“Enough,” Aneirin interjected calmly, knowing both Rurik and Nayana were quick to argue. This wasn’t his first time in front of the Elders “We have come here for a reason.”

“Yes, we have come to discuss the night of the black moon,” Fionnlagh commented. His eyes went back to the skull mounted on the wall behind him. “We have decided to have another tapestry made in your honour, but we believe your current title is already fitting for what you have done.”

Rurik thought there may have been a chance his title ‘the WitchSlayer’ could have changed. He was relieved it would remain the same.

“You are one of the few who will have more than one tale hung in the room of great histories,” Nayana added.

The room of great histories was a place every Dragon could visit to see the greatest deeds of their kind. It sat in the temple of the Elders at the top of a central mountain no human could walk to or Witch could get to without wings. It was guarded and any who weren’t of their kind were quickly killed even approaching the lands from the sea.

Most knew it as the mountain of death. Its real name to his kind was the Pinnacle of Dragons.

There were other rooms, like a great hall for trials, a place for banquets, even rooms to spar. It was a place of growth and tradition.

“We have also decided to give the Witch a title after what Glov has told us,” Aneirin said, each one of them seeming to want to take a turn speaking. Rurik frowned since he hadn’t expected this – no Witch had ever been given a title by them. “We have been told her name is Amalia. From now on, she will be known by our kind as Amalia the GoodWitch.”

“That is until she turns and then the title will be stripped,” Fionnlagh cut in, telling Rurik he wasn’t on board with the idea.

“Although she has used blood magic, she did so in order to release you from your captivity. She also did not extract this power from anyone else, nor did she cause harm to anyone, bar herself. It was blood magic,” Aneirin said, looking at the other two Elders who began to nod. “But we have decided to not consider it evil magic in this instance.”

Rurik’s shoulders began to lose their tension. He didn’t think the discussion with the Elders would go this way.

He also wasn’t blind to how it still could turn out. There was a reason he was standing in front of Amalia protectively.

“We are also pleased with your tale of your fight. Glov has relayed what you told him, and we wish to discuss it further when you come to the Pinnacle of Dragons to tell the weaver of your story,” Nayana said as her eyes fell onto the tapestries around the main room.

“But we have some concerns about the prophecy that was told,” Aneirin said, making Rurik’s shoulders bunch in tension. “For it to be foretold that she was to take your heart and birth your child does not sit well with us. No Dragon and Witch has ever birthed such a creation.”

“We are now concerned if you two remain together with this knowledge, then what was foretold will come to light. That she will turn on another black moon,” Fionnlagh said. “Since you allow her to walk freely within your lair, making it obvious that you trust her to some degree, we have decided that when we leave today, we will be taking the Witch with us.”

“No,” Rurik answered. His arm came back to touch Amalia’s side when he felt her fingers dig harder into his back. “She is to remain in my lair.”

“You will not disobey us, Rurik,” Fionnlagh barked before snapping his jaws forward. “She is not to remain here with you. This is what we have decided. All three of us have agreed, and you must adhere to the law of our word.”

With a wicked hint to his grin, Rurik suddenly spun Amalia so that she was in front of him. He kept their bound hands hidden behind her back and between them, but he pulled her so that Amalia’s back was against his front with his head next to hers.

Grasping her chin and jaw, Rurik forcibly lifted her head to reveal his mark against her throat.

He specifically asked Glov not to reveal this to the Elders. He knew once Glov spoke with them that they would come here, and he would be able to do it himself.

All Dragons in the room gasped and took a step forward, except for Glov who was already aware of this. Even the dark red Dragon who wasn’t an Elder reacted.

“You have taken her as your mate?” Nayana said with surprise, her silver eyes blinking wildly, and her head slowly rearing back.

“Yes, I have chosen Amalia as my female.”