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Nithel nodded a bit when he suggested there might be books of their worlds. But he looked hurt and evasive about it. Alessio stared at his friend, the delighted light in his eyes starting to shatter. What happened, had he done something? Was Nithel ok?
“Perhaps there is,” Jericho said uneasily and began to turn over books with him. A wave of guilt flushed through Alessio as he glanced between them, certain he must’ve said the wrong thing and upset them. In seconds he felt nauseous with an irrational terror worming through his bones. He could shut it off mentally but his chest still tightened like a steel trap.
Then Brendin screamed.
Alessio flinched with a stifled cry, Nithel was already hurling back the white curtain. No, before he knew what he was doing Alessio ran in after his friend. Nono no, this wasn’t–he could see droplets of blood splattered on the floor. This wasn’t like–it wasn’t the same as…
Nithel hadn’t wasted a second, he had Brendin on one of the beds.
Alessio swallowed, trying not to tremble, trying to back up and not be seen. This didn’t happen this couldn’t happen everythin–It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t do it? Brendin had been nothing but kind to him, and he could control his fire so well, how–Alessio backed a couple steps, unable to force his body into any action.
“Gavin Thunderfoot,” The dragon rumbled, causing Alessio to look up. “Halt.”

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