Rebecca commanded her dragon puppets telepathically to ignore the young dragons, sparing them as she had promised Drakonix.
With a single thought, the puppet dragons resumed their massacre, their numbers multiplying exponentially, while the dragons' numbers dwindled just as fast—until all who had a hand in her race's destruction were dead. All except the young ones—those two hundred years old and below. They had not taken part in the genocide, and so Rebecca chose to spare them.
After the battlefield had been cleaned, the surviving young dragons wailed in grief, mourning their slain loved ones and clan members. They glared at Rebecca with a mixture of anguish and hatred, but none dared to move, none dared to attack. They all understood what would become of them if they acted on emotion. She had made that clear enough.
