[Ardyn watches silently, allowing Zain to form his words and let them fall from his lips. He does not move, as still as statuary until it is his turn to speak.]

Bringing back the dead for the sake of destruction? Perhaps your leader has not considered that, sometimes, the dead merely want to rest.

[But that was neither here nor there — Ardyn’s mind works, a machine with its gears spinning and groaning, to piece what he can together. The still-beating heart of a dragon, something to bring destruction to both cities. Bringing back what is long dead—]

Is it the wrath of a dragon that we need fear?

[But blood drips, and before he even gives Zain a chance to reply, Ardyn reaches out with his free hand to grasp at the wrist clutching the underside of the skull. His intention is to lift it up, so that he might see what hidden thing is causing injury. Glass, he assumes, kept close to use as a weapon.]

Oh, but you’re bleeding.