The morning came far too quickly. Crona went about the day in a state One might imagine a reanimated corpse would; like the old youngling’s tale of Zeharia’s Shame where said fabled dragon turned to raise an army from the dead.
She was barely able to focus on her lesson with Tectonica, and a couple times their wyvern teacher had gotten visibly agitated with her, ruffling her wings and her already-intimidating saw-like scales standing on end. But the Sovereign had never called her out. Even when Crona found herself nodding off, and suddenly jerked wide awake, knocking her ink and writing tools around, had Tectonica refrained from chastising her. Most of her younger classmates giggled at her, and she was vaguely aware that they probably knew that their teacher was being lenient.
During the midday meal, she spent her free time sleeping in the shade of a large tree in the school gardens – at least until Titanus made his presence known.
At first, she did her best to ignore