The Black stared down at Clay with narrowed eyes, small tendrils of smoke leaking from its nostrils as it gave another low, rumbling growl. It sat perched on the tower’s stepped, pyramidal roof, sickle-like claws latched onto the stone and wings folded as its tail swayed gently behind. Blue eyes, was the only coherent thought to pop into his head. It has blue eyes. But these eyes were so different from the eyes of the Greens that had assailed them at the temple. There was no hate in them, no desire for blood or death. Looking at the way the light caught them, the way they gleamed, he knew he
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