Illusion

The hearth was burning with fresh logs, its fire crackling, its flames trying to chase the evil of the palace as the shadows danced on the walls of his chamber. "That loud thud shook the palace's foundations," Viktor said in a low, feral voice. "I want that dragon off from my lands." At one point of time, he was interested in the dragon, but when his men failed to catch her, he wanted her out of Wilyra. 

"She can't go anywhere, father," Lazarus replied as he leaned back on his chair, watching the fire crackle and grow. "Nephie is here to protect Emma and try as you may, she wouldn't leave. However, if you try to chase her, she may end up eating our soldiers to their bones or might end of burning the forest that surround our palace and the kingdom of Wilyra so smugly."

He slammed his fist on the armrest of his chair. "Then make her go! I don't care, but I want her gone. I can't afford another round of commotion in the palace because of your dragon."