Shadows of time

Part 1: Faded past.


The rain fell in steady pace, a relentless drizzle that coated the city in a
grey, wet haze. Neon lights flickered through the mist, casting eerie
reflections on the slick pavement. The sound of car tires hissed through the
wet streets and mixed with the low hum of the city’s nightlife. In the heart of
this urban jungle, where shadows clung in every corner, a lone figure walked
with her head raised against the rain.

Alexandra Vale’s heels clicked against the sidewalk. Her
rhythmic taps bleeding with the rain’s steady pattern. Her long tailored trench
coat hugged her curves, her collar turned up against the chill. She wore a
wide-brimmed fedora that protected her sleek face with its brim against the
onslaught of the train. Her eyes seemed to almost glow from the dark of her
brim. In her hand she held a cigar, the end glowing faintly as she occasionally
took a drag from it.

She meticulously planned her appearance, combining elements
of the old world and the modern, in order to create the illusion of being
timeless, a look she had honed for more time than she cared to acknowledge.

As she approached the crime scene, a line of police tape
marked of the entrance to a dilapidated warehouse. A cluster of uniformed
officers and detectives milled about, their faced etched with a mix of
frustration and confusion. This wasn’t just another homicide in this forsaken
city. She inspected each face. Some seemed released. She was here, mostly the
cops, who seemed that they missed the warm food and embrace of their loved
ones. The detectives seemed only more frustrated, no doubt another career moment
that she would solve instead of them. Not that they would ever solve the
murders she solved, no detective had the experience she gathered over more
years that they could ever do.

“Detective Vale!” a voice called out, cutting through the
noise of the scene.

Alexandra turned to see Detective John Mason striding
towards her. He was a grizzled veteran of the force, already made his career
and not happy to accept any help to solve the case. They understand through the
years delivered Alexandra delivered with enough resourced to enjoy life. A
mutual understanding forged through years of working together on some of the
city’s most challenging and bloody cases.

“Mason,” she acknowledged with a nod, her tone brisk. She
took a final drag of her cigar and cut off the end to save the rest for later.
“What do we have here?”

Mason grimaced. “Beyond the mystery that you seem not to age
at all, why does my hair gets greyer with very year?” He quipped before his
face turned into one with more concern. “It’s a mess Vale. A real fucking
bloody mess. The victim is Henry Caldwell, mid-thirties, low-level mobster. We
thought the usual, you know, family business related, but what we found inside
the warehouse. The scene… it’s strange, to say the least. I most of my
detectives can’t even enter the scene without fainting.”

Alexandra arched her eyebrow. Latching on, it was not usual
for Mason to describe something as strange. “Strange how?”

“Can’t describe this, you must look for yourself,” He
replied, leading her under the police tape and into the dimly lit interior of
the warehouse.

The smell hit her first, a mix of blood, decay and something
else, something primordial that made her instincts flare. Something that
smelled of prey, delicious prey. Her reaction lasted only for a second before
she masked it again, but Mason gave her a knowing look while he lead her deeper
into the building.

The warehouse was a cavernous space, its walls lined with
rusting machinery and forgotten crates. In the centre of the room, illuminated
by the harsh light of a single overhead bulb, was the body. Henry Caldwell lay
sprawled on the cold concrete floor, his limbs broken and splayed in angles
limbs where not supposed to be splayed in. Someone had torn open his chest,
exposing his ribcage in a grotesque sacrifice to some ancient god.

It wasn’t the gruesome nature of the crime that caught
Alexandra’s attention. It was unusual, yes, but not extraordinary. No, it was
the symbols etched into the floor around the body. Intricate runes that seemed
to be clawed into the stone and that glowed faintly with an otherworldly light.
She took a sharp breath when she recognised the symbols, a shiver running down
her spine.

These were not the markings of any modern criminal, they
were ancient, far older than human civilization and the unmistaken part of a
creature that was older than written time itself. Alexandra kneeled in front of
the body, her fingers trailed symbols. She could feel the power running into
her fingertips like electricity. Oh, to feel this power once more, it was
intoxicating.

“Seen anything like this before?” Mason asked, his voice low
and hushed after seeing Vale’s reaction.

Alexandra rubbed her fingers together, getting a feel of the
blood between them. Her mind racing. She had seemed them before, but it was so
long ago. Before what was now, before that, was human, when myths and legends
still roamed supreme and humans were mere prey. A world she saw with her own
eyes, before this, before she walked on two legs, before she hid herself among
those who used to be her prey.

And she knew exactly who was responsible for this murder.

But how could it be possible? The ones who had carved these
symbols should have vanquished long ago, but she herself had played a part in
it no less. He shouldn’t exist in this world anymore. But this? This could only
be him.

“I’ve seen something similar,” she finally replied, careful
to keep her voice steady. “But nothing exactly like this. We are dealing with
something old. Something that should have died a long time ago.”

Mason frowned. He knew Vale for long enough that he learned
to read her, despite her cold appearance. Knowing when she hid something,
knowing when she was worried. Mason’s experience told him that if Vale was
worried, he should be scared. “We need your expertise on this one, Vale. The
brass is already breathing down our necks, and we can’t afford to have this
kind of thing hit the streets. Not with the mobsters already making our lives
hell.”

“I will do my best, Mason, but this…this will take
everything I have to give.” She promised, though her thoughts were already
elsewhere. She needed to investigate this further, to dig into a past she had
tried so hard to leave behind.

With a brisk pace she left the warehouse, the rain still
falling in cold, steady droplets. Alexandra knew she was not just hunting a
killer. She was hunting for a ghost, a ghost that should have remained buried.
A ghost that was from her own past.

Part 2: Echoes

The night was thick with the scent of rain and the smoke of
the cities with countless chimneys. Alexandra’s heels clicked sharply against
the cobblestone streets as she made her way to a small, nondescript building
nestled between two towering skyscrapers. The building was old, its façade
cracked and weathered, with a single dim light burning above the door.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, the warm, dry
air immediately enveloping her. The interior was as unassuming as the exterior,
perhaps only remarkable with the age of it than anything else. Plain wooden
shelves lined the walls, filled with books, trinkets, and oddities from all
corners of the world. Each one was a piece of value only Vale knew the value
of. Her home was a place of knowledge, of secrets forgotten by the world
outside these walls.

At the far end of the room, behind a desk cluttered with
ancient tomes and scrolls, sat an elderly man with a calculating gaze. A man
who, perhaps through his years, was the only one smart enough to figure out who
she really was. And the only mortal who got close enough to her heart for her
to mourn his soon to be passing.

“Alexandra,” He greeted her with a nod, his voice rasping
with age. “It has been a while”

“Not long enough, Eamon,” she replied with a smirk. She
removed her hat and shake off the rain. “Thank you for being able to come at
this time of the night, but I need your help.”

“Of course, when you call, I answer. Even when my old body
can’t keep up with your ‘youth’” Eamon said, gesturing for her to sit down in
her own house. Oh, he was always a bit of an oddball, sitting behind her desk.
Having to take the chair of her clients. She humoured him, enjoying his quirks,
savouring her time with him.

“What is it this time? Another cursed artifact? A rogue
warlock?” He continued.

“Worse,” she answered, settling into the chair. “A murder,
and not just any murderer, one that is connected to me.”

Eamon’s eyebrows rose in surprised and he leaned forwards.
It was rare that Alexandra could take him by surprise like this. “Go on”

She described the crime scene. The amount of detail she
offered rivalled the finest pictures that could be taken. As she spoke and
described the symbols, Eamon’s expression grew more serious and his finger
steepled beneath his chin.

“When I first saw those symbols, I thought they were just
some ancient draconic language. A relic of a bygone area. “Alexandra continued
“But when I touched them, I realised they are a signature, a signature I
thought I had erased centuries ago”

Eamon nodded slowly, coming to his own conclusions. “You are
talking about him, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice tight. “Eryndor, old as time
itself, perhaps older. And as cruel as they come. Revelling in chaos and
destruction. When I finally brought him down, I thought that was the end of it.
Perhaps just some estranged cult members left, but now, I am not so sure.”

Eamon took a pipe from a back on the ground and lit it.
“These symbols you described,” He said, giving her a piece of paper. “Can you
draw them?”

Alexandra nodded and took the piece of paper and her
fountain pen to dot the signals with machine precision. Showing them at Eamon.
He only hummed slowly, letting the symbols get to him. He moved slowly to take
another item from his pack, an old leather-bound book. “I always take this with
me when you are calling.” He spoke and opened it, flicking through the pages.
Then suddenly he turned the book around to show an exact match.

“It is funny to talk about something you are the source of.
But these symbols they are a port of an ancient rite. A rite that binds the
soul to the earth, even after death. It’s possible that Eryndor found a way to
anchor himself to this world, even after his physical body was destroyed.”

“Which means he is still out there, somewhere,” Alexandra
said with her hands clenching into fists. A slow hiss came from the corners of
her mouth. “And he is killing again. “

Eamon nodded grimly. “And if that is true, he had become
more dangerous than before. He could have hidden, and gathering strength for
all this time. Waiting for the right moment to strike,”

“And now that moment has come,” she said, standing up. “I
need to find him, Eamon. I need to stop him before he kills again.”

“I can help,” Eamon said, closing the book. “But you will
need more than just knowledge to defeat him this time. You need power, Power
that you may not have access to currently. “

Alexandra hesitated, knowing what he was suggesting. She had
lived as a human for so long, blending in with their world. It was almost
unthinkable to consider what her true nature was. Not to mention that her form
was not designed for the city. Trough she was to face Eryndor again, she would
need that primordial power, she would need to embrace that form once more.

“I will do what I have to.” She said finally, with
resolution filling her voice. “But first I need to find him.”

Eamon nodded and stood up, walking together with Alexandra
down the straights to her basement to gather supplies, charms, potions and
other arcane tools that would aid her in her search. Tools that would not be
considered helpful in today’s world, but today’s would be under threat and only
something old would help it. Alexandra’s mind drifted to the last time she
faced Eryndor, the last time she truly got close to dying.

And now, centuries later, it seemed that the battle was far
from over.

Part 3: Knowledge, once forgotten, remembered a new.

Days turned into weeks as Alexandra scoured the city for any
signs of Eryndor. She no longer walked among the humans like Alexandra for most
of the time, using her most valuable asset to take on the face of others in the
city. Allowing her to leave no stone unturned in her search.

Trough Eryndor was elusive, his presence nothing more than
whispers on the wind. Yet the murders continued, each one more brutal and
ritualistic than the last. All bearing the wicked marks of the evil dragon. Yet
still Alexandra could find no trace of him.

Frustration gnawed at her, the weight of her past pressing
down like a heavy cloak. She had thought she had left that world behind. Now it
haunted her every waking and sleeping moment. She could feel the lies she told
through the centuries heavy on her mind, her name, her identity, the delegate
web of lies that kept the truth hidden all stirred uneasily in her mind.

She wondered, of all placed in the world, why was Eryndor
drawn here? Here in her city and bold enough to begin his second coming. Then
it hit her, something she had hid, for centuries since she took up her human
form. She had taken many names during her stay, names that helped her blend in,
that allowed her to walk among the mortals without raising suspicion. Her true
name, the name that her parents gave her, a powerful an ancient name, a name
that commanded fear.

And it was a name that Eryndor knew.

The realisations truck her like a bolt of lightning, making
her choke her whiskey when she realised it. That was how he had found her, how
he was able to strike so close without her realising it. Back when she was in
the world before, he had called her by that name, both in a loving embrace and
in the heat of their last battle.

The late one night, as the city slumbered beneath a blanket
of fog, Alexandra stood at the edge of the docks, sipping whiskey from a
stainless canteen. She stared out at the dark waters with the moon high above
her. Its pale light reflecting off the rippling waves. She could now feel his
presence as she became attuned to it, sensing a faint but unmistakable pull
from the shadows.

She was tired, her strength waning from the constant
shifting of forms and the endless hunt. But she couldn’t give up now. She had
come too far. There is too much at stake. She could not allow the old world to
come back. There mortals have come so far in their own ways, further than the
old dragons had come. She stared up at the moon. No dragon ever touched the
moon, yet here they are, currently having mortals walking on the moon. Flying
faster, higher, further than any dragon did. No. The old world disappeared for
a reason.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, reaching out
with her mind. Searching for that familiar thread of power that connected all
dragons. It was a tenuous link at best, born of their shared history, their
shared blood and even shared love, and it was through that link she called out
to him.

“Eryndor,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the
sound of the waves. “I know you’re here. Show yourself.”

For a long moment, there was nothing. Just the sound of the
water lapping against the docks. The distant cry of a gull. But then, slowly,
she felt it, a presence, dark and powerful, moving towards her from the depths
of the night.

She turned around to see a figure emerging from the shadows,
his form tall and imposing, his movements graceful and predatory. He was
dressed in dark, flowing robes that billowed around him like smoke and his eyes
glowed with unnatural light.

“Ah, there you are,” He said, his voice smooth and dripping
with malice. “It’s been too long…Lyara.”

The name sent a shiver down her spine, the name she hid for
so long. Hid deep within herself and she had not heard spoken aloud in
centuries. Hearing it again, spoken by him, bought a flood of memories rushing
back. Memories from back when she was a creature of legends, a creature who was
equal to Eryndor in more ways than she wanted to admit.

But she was not that creature anymore. Like the mortals, she
changed, evolved, adapted to the new world. She took her new identity, not
shaped by birth but shaped by her own choice. It was by those choices that she
continued to live among the mortals, protect them from the darkness that lurked
in the shadows.

And yet, standing there on the docks, facing Eryndor once
more, she felt the pull of that old life, the call of power that lay dormant
within her.

“Don’t call me that,” she said with an icy voice. “That name
belongs to the past. “

Eryndor chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Perhaps I should
whisper it to you in passion, like we used to do. After all, the past has a way
of catching up with us, doesn’t it? No matter how hard we try to escape it. We
are bound Lyara.”

“I am not the same as I was.” She said, her eyes narrowing.
“I’ve changed, adapted.”

“Have you?” He asked, stepping closer, his gaze piercing.
“Or are you simply been hiding, pretending to be something you’re not?”

Alexandra felt her resolve waver, but only for a moment. She
couldn’t let him get inside of her head, couldn’t let him drag her back into
that world of chaos and destruction.

“I have been protecting this world,” she spoke, her voice
steady. “Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Eryndor’s eyes flashed with an anger she had only seen in
their last battle. “Protecting them!? These weak, fragile creatures? They are
prey! You were meant for more than this, Lyara. You were meant to rule by my
side!”

“I was meant to survive,” she counted, her hand
instinctively reaching for the service revolver she carried at her side. “And I
will. Even if it means ending you for once and for all.”

Eryndor’s expression darkened, and for a moment, the air
crackled with tension. “Such a disappointing answer. You are welcome to try,”
He said, his voice filled with poison.

Part 4: Return of the dragon.

Alexandra was a quick draw, unleashing three rounds of her
.45 revolver dead centre into Eryndor’s body. He did not seem to care for the
high velocity lead that was pumped against his hide. He growled and let dark
energy radiate from him, an ancient strength that once coursed through her own
veins.

She was no longer the dragon she had been; She had lived
among humans, learned their ways, and in doing so, she learned a different kind
of strength. One part of this strength she unleashed on Eryndor. Each bang was
sharp and loud throughout the night. But he moved with a speed and precision of
a predator, his attacks calculated and vicious. But Alexandra was no easy prey.
She fought with a fury born of centuries of survival, each strike a testament
to the countless battles she had fought and won.

Their clash shook the docks, sending shockwaves through the
water and causing the very ground beneath them to rumble. Fire and lighting
tracked in the air as their power grew to unprecedented powers.

But as the fight wore on, Alexandra could feel her strength
waning. Eryndor was too powerful, too deeply rooted in the darkness that had
kept him alive for so long. He was feeding off the chaos, growing stronger with
each passing moment.

And then, as she faltered, her revolver empty, he struck.
His hand shot out, gripping her by the throat and lifting her off the ground
with ease. She struggled, but his grip was like iron and his eyes burning with
malevolent light.

“It’s over Lyara,” He hissed, his voice filled with triumph.
“Submit to me and I will allow you to live.”

But even as darkness closed in, Alexandra refused to give
up. She had come too far, fought for too long, to be defeated now. Summoning
the last of her strength, she reached deep within herself, calling forth the
power that lay dormant in her very soul.

And then, with a roar that shook the heavens, she unleashed
it.

Her form shifted, her human form melting away to reveal the
dragon within. Scales rippled across her body, her limb elongated and her eyes
burned with a fiery light. In an instant, she transformed into a creature she
had once been, a dragon of legend, a force of nature. Her scales were a vibrant
sapphire hue.

Eryndor’s eyes widened in shock, his grip faltering as he
realised what was happening. But it was too late for his own retort. With a
powerful surge, Alexandra broke free, her claws slashing through the air and
the struck with all the fury of a storm. 

The battle that followed was a clash of titans, Eryndor
shifting into his own draconic form. A struggle between two ancient beings
whose power could shake the very foundations of the earth. Fire and lightning
filled the sky. The ground trembled beneath them, and the docks were torn apart
in their wake.

But Alexandra had the advantage. She had embraced her true
nature once more and, in doing so, had tapped into a wellspring of power. However,
the primordial power was not the only power she had. She, too, brought her
cunning and experience. IT was a power that Eryndor could not match. She fought
with a fury born of centuries of pain and loss, each strike fuelled by the
memories of those she had loved and lost.

And finally, with one last, devastating blow, she brought
Eryndor down.

He felt to the ground, his body broken and battered, covered
in blood. His eyes dimming as the life drained from him. But even in his final
moments, he managed to sneer, his voice whispers of malice.

“You…can’t escape…what you are,” He rasped, his breath
coming in ragged gasps. “You.. are…a…dragon…a…killer,”

Alexandra looked down at him, her eyes cold and unyielding.
“I am what I choose to be.” She said, her voice firm. “And I choose to protect
this world, no matter what the cost.”

And with that, she breathes down the heat of a thousand suns
on Eryndor’s body. Turning it into ash, letting his remains wash away in the
rain.

Epilogue; The dragon’s last secret.

The night had grown eerily quiet after the storm of battle.
The docks, once a scene of chaos and destructions, now lay in ruins, the
twisted remains of crates and broken wood strewn across the ground. The air was
thick with the scent of ozone and charred wood, the aftermath of a fight that
no mortal eyes had ever witnessed, or should witness. Until now.

Detective John Mason arrived at the scene, his breath coming
in short, sharp bursts. He had been following a lead, a gut instinct that
something was wrong, something far beyond the usual crimes he encountered when
he heart a noise that was ungodly. A noise that shook his core with fear. But
true to him training, he ran towards the danger, choking down his primal fear.
He couldn’t turn back now, not when he was so close to solving the case.

What he found shocked him to his core.

Amid the wreckage, bathing in the cold light of the moon,
stood something, a monster. Something beyond description, something reptilian
and something huge. He raised his weapon to the creature when he saw it
shifting back, scales withdrawing into smooth skin. Elongated limbs shrinking
back into the shape of a woman. It was like watching something out of a
nightmare, something that defied everything he knew about the world.

He stumbled back, his mind struggling to comprehend what he
was seeing. This was impossible. The women? The shape? It was Alexandra Vale,
the sharp, no-nonsense detective that he had worked with for years. And she was
this monster? This creature?

Alexandra’s attention snapped to the sound of breaking wood.
There she stood, panting, her body trembling with the effort of the battle and
the transformation. Her clothes torn from her body, her eyes still filled with
the fiery glow of a dragon. And she could only stare at the human who had seen
her transform.

“John,” she began, her voice barely more than a whisper, but
he held up a hand, weapon loosely in his right hand. His expression was a mix
of disbelief and shock.

“Alexandra,” He said slowly, his voice shaking. “What the
hell did I just see?”

She took a hesitant step towards him, but he flinched,
raising his weapon slowly. Flinching and his eyes darting around as if
expecting another transformation at any moment. Alexandra paused, understanding
that he was seeing her in a completely new and terrifying light. The look in
his eyes was the last she ever hoped to see. The fear, the sense of betrayal.

“I can explain,” she said, though the worlds felt hollow.
How could she explain centuries of secrets, of lies and a life that spanned
millennia?

Mason shook his head, his mind still reeling. “Explain? How
do you explain that? I’ve seen a lot in this city, but nothing like this.”

She bit her lip, trying to find the right words. “John, I’m
still me. The same person you have always known. But there is just a bit more
than you realised.”

“You are not human,” He said flatly, his voice devoid of
emotions. “I think I found your secret to your youth. All these years, working
together and you never thought to mention that you are…what a monster? A
creature? A giant lizard,”

“Dragon.” Alexandra looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I
am a dragon. No I couldn’t. It’s a secret I’ve kept for so long to protect
myself. To protect the people I care about. If anyone knew what I was, they
would come for me. The government, all governments. Wore, they would come for
those around me.”

“So you lied,” Mason said, bitterness creeping in his voice.
“You lied to everyone.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she whispered. “This life…this
world isn’t ready to know what I am. And it’s better that way, for everyone.”

He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t even
know what to think right now. I’ve been through a lot of strange things. But
this, this is just too much.”

“I know,” she said with sorrow in her voice. “I never wanted
you to find out this way. I wanted to protect you from all this.”

“Protect me?” He repeated, his tone incredulous. “From what?
The truth?”

She took a deep breath, trying to find the words that could
make him understand. “From the dangers that come from knowing what I am.”

Mason was silent for a long moment, the weight of her words
sinking in. He had always known there was something different about Alexandra,
something that set her apart from the rest. Something that made her one hell of
a detective.

“I need time to think about this. I can’t just pretend that
nothing has happened, that things are just the way they are.” Mason spoke with
a shiver in his voice.

“No, you cannot. But I still want to work with you, if you
have me. We did good work together. John and I appreciate you. We can keep
doing that. Take all the time you need. I will be there when you need me to.”
Alexandra whispered.

Mason gave a soft nod, putting his gun away. “I need time.”
He said with finality, turning around and walking away. Leaving her behind on
the spot of the battle.

Two weeks passed before Mason saw Alexandra again. He had
thought of calling her, but every time he picked up the phone, doubt and fear
stayed his hands. The memory of that night on the docks replayed in his mind
endlessly, a loop he couldn’t escape. Finally, he decided he had to see her in
person, if only to confront the new reality.

He did not have to wait long before the sounds of chains
coming off the door and a surprised but happy looking welcomed him, Alexandra.
“Detective. What brings you here?”

Mason, hold up a case file. “A case,” he simply said, “A
case that you made a real pain to solve, so I hope you can also help me with.”

“Come in.” She opened the door further to allow Mason in.
Leading him through the home that was riddled with ancient artifacts and
straight to her office. They sat down between file cases and piles of old case
files. On the shelf behind Alexandra’s desk, there were more ancient trinkets
stalled.

Alexandra took out a cigar, offering Mason one, too.
“Alright shoot. What is this case I can help with? “

Mason took the cigar and lit it with his own match. He
dropped the file on the desk with an annoyed grunt. “Ever since your little
stunt on the docks, the brass is up my arse about the docks, about the murders,
even when the murders suddenly stopped. I do not know what you did, but I need
answers. I need someone to put behind bars. Publicly.” He said with agency in
his voice.

Alexandra scrolled through the files, looking at the photos
and humming. “How deep do you think this rabbit hole goes?” She asked, taking a
few deep drags of her cigar.

Mason squint his eyes at her. “For all I am concerned with
you, the rabbit hole goes all the way to the centre of the earth. But I don’t
care for how deep it goes, I care for answers Alexandra. My job is on the line
here.”

Alexandra listened to Mason, giving a soft hum in
acknowledgement. She pulled a file from a drawer on the desk and showed it to
the detective. “The culprit is a dragon called Eryndor. He was behind the
murders, but I took care of him. But he did not act alone. There is a cult who
did his bidding. In this file is everything you need to put them behind bars
for the murder.”

Mason coughed in the cigar smoke. “A dragon…like you?”

“Like me, but not like me. He is a dragon, an evil dragon
from before the new age. But I stopped him. The carnage you saw at the dock was
the aftermath of our fight.”

Mason took the file to look at. Reading through the notes
and looking at the photos. “And are there more like you?”

“If there are, I have not found them yet.” Alexandra said. “But
I will stop any of them if they want the old age back.”

Mason took a deep breath, steading himself. “You are free
tonight?” He finally asked.

“Yes, why are you asking?” Alexandra forever bent to
intensely gaze at him.

“Because we are going to have a long talk.” He said with
finality. “Just a shame that their aint no booze to get,”

Alexandra smiled and opened her desk to pour a single malt
whiskey for them both. “bought before the prohibition if you are asking”

Mason happily took the drink. “In all the mysteries you
hold, this one I am not concerned about.”