For a heartbeat, Keiser didn't move.
The implication struck him like a blow to the ribs. It was a well-known fact that dragons could recognize their own kind, their blood carried a resonance, a rhythm older than runescripting itself.
But dragonkin couldn't. No wonder Tyron had been unable to sense it, he had only his memory of what the relic looked like to rely on.
But if she, the dragon child, could feel something… and it was sleeping...
Keiser exhaled through his teeth. "Here? Did we find it?" His eyes darted through the dark as he pushed forward, one hand outstretched to feel his way around. His fingers brushed against wooden crates, ones he was certain he'd already checked. Nothing. Just the same crates.
The dragon child huffed softly, guiding his hand toward where they stood. "Here…" she murmured.
Keiser looked down. In the darkness, it felt as though he were being pulled in, swallowed by it. The sensation was too familiar.
