Dylan paced in his room.
Element's warning echoed in his head, and not for the first time he wondered what he had gotten himself into. Would he be in any of this if he hadn't touched the stone? Or better yet, if he hadn't walked into the study?
This is me, isn't it? This is all my doing.
He shook his head in defeat, still pacing. Now, he had an even bigger problem to contend with. The Flame, and his own father with it, had picked him out as it's next target.
Wait, is that really what she meant?
She was right about one thing: he had gone largely unscathed throughout the past day and a half. Maybe it wasn't that the Flame wanted him dead. Maybe, instead, the Flame wanted him home.
Xelnarin wanted him home.
He cursed. That couldn't have been what she had meant. She didn't know of Dylan's memories, his ties to the Flame. The warning had been simple. Watch your back.