The heat gathered, coalescing into a figure descending from the ruptured sky.
A tall, handsome man wearing normal clothes, his presence radiated fierce, unrelenting vitality, his hair was a cascade of untamed black and embers, and his eyes gleam like twin suns, on his back rested a Sword, its edge concealed within its sheath, the air shimmers around him, as though the world bends to his passage.
Zerypha's expression, for the first time, shifted, not out of fear, but of irritation.
"Draven."
The name alone was enough to make Lyneex's half-healed form stiffen again.
He landed without a sound, his gaze passing over Lenaia, pausing briefly, before settling on Zerypha.
"My dear Zerypha, do we have to be at each other's throat when we can all live amicably with each other," Draven remarked in a light tone, his face had a soothing smile. "And I can't have you snuffing out Shaman of my family now, wouldn't that be ominous."
