Too Much Time On Your Hands

The balcony of the royal Draconis palace presented a stark vista of the vast crimson skies. And on this balcony, a menacing beauty with silvery-lavender hair and dark silver wings stood with a cold gaze.

Her posture was rigid, her eyes unblinking as she surveyed her domain, or maybe she was imagining something with cold eagerness.

As she stood there, lost in her thoughts, a tall, bulky figure approached her with measured steps. Despite his stocky build, he had a youngish and chiseled face with long black hair.

The figure exuded an aura of strength and menace and had gray-scaled wings.

He stopped beside her, bowing his head briefly in a show of respect, "You asked for me, mother?" he inquired, his voice a deep rumble that resonated in the still air.

Lysandra, without shifting her gaze from the horizon, responded, "Rhygar, you have made the right preparations to avenge your little brother, right?"