Focalor perched himself on Sinbad's shoulders, the Rufflet letting out a squawk of annoyance as Badr slithers alongside the two teenagers.

White halls, dragon slash marks - is this where you found my egg, Sin?

"Yeah..." He breathes out slowly. "I know. It can't be real, but the fact it can yank that from my head." The youth shook his head, tail thrashing.

"Better to keep it locked away, layer upon layer, never letting them see the light of day. Pretty little lies are much better, don't you think?" a voice purrs against their ears, if someone's standing behind them - it takes a few moments to register, but it almost sounded like Sinbad... if his voice dropped a pitch.