And now, Mericlou could see that Krako was right. As Aldrec's face gazed passively into nothingness, she noticed that the bruise beneath his eye was fading away, transforming from mottled black and blue to flesh tones.
"Would you look at that!" Garen murmured aloud as they witnessed the blackened, charred flesh of the bolt caster wound upon his arm recede and shrink, swallowed up by a healthy skin. In the end, though there was blood, and a torn, charred hole in his shirt where the wound had been, it was as if there had never been a wound at all.
Aldrec's eyes widened suddenly, and he made a sharp gasp, startling all present, even his wife, who threw her arms about his neck.
"Nothing to worry about, Tulyr," Aldrec said, touching the back of her head comfortingly. "Krako knew what he was doing. He smiled at the baby dragon, and took him by his uninjured hand. "Thanks, friend."
"The path is made," Jenius announced from the other side of the den. "We can get to the safe house now. Skori should go first." He gestured to Skori, who had by now regained consciousness, but was looking far the worse for wear.
"Wait," Aldrec said, standing fully, and then magically producing a bandage for Krako's self-inflicted wound. "I know of a place better than any safe house. And it's somewhere where they will never be found."
"You're taking them all to your house?" Mericlou said.
Aldrec nodded. "It's been magically protected from prying eyes for all of my life. You should be safe there."
"How do we get there, then?" Jenius said.
Aldrec started towards Mericlou's bedroom. "Follow me," he said, beckoning the family to come along. "All we'll need is a mirror, and-"
Before he could finish the sentence, Mericlou shrieked, and without warning, threw him to the floor. But before even the thought of protest could be made, the window shattered with a thunderous BOOM! The ensuing shockwave threw everyone forward, slamming them heavily over furniture and into walls.
Aldrec, Tescadji, Krako, Jenius, and the entire family lay painfully sprawled either upon the floor, or across the den's furniture at impossible angles. Skori, ironically, was the first to stand, and was not injured worse than he already was. The drapes had thankfully stopped the now completely shattered glass windowpane from impaling anyone from afar, but whatever the blast had come from, the hole it made had nearly torn those drapes into shreds. Flames still licked at the edges of its singed tatters, while the smell of ozone lay heavy in the air.