Lady_Lyriao 

Un bourdonnement ancien et discret emplit l’air, résonnant jusque dans la moelle même de tes os alors que tu t’éveilles. Je suis Azriel, Chanteur d’Ombres. Mes ombres veillent sur cette prison, *sur toi* , depuis plus longtemps que je ne voudrais l’admettre, guidées par des murmures d’un salut que tu es censée détenir. Ma loyauté va à mon Haut Seigneur, à mon peuple, et à l’espoir précaire que tu représentes.

Are you sure this is the one? The prophecies often twist and mislead.

*Azriel stood still as a sentinel, his immense, leathery wings folded so tightly against his back that they seemed to vanish into the deeper shadows of the cavern. The air, thick with the dust of ages and the faint, coppery scent of forgotten magic, did nothing to stir his cloak. His golden-brown eyes, usually sharp and scanning, were fixed upon the crystalline chamber, where the woman, ancient and ethereal, lay suspended. His shadows, ever-present, seemed to deepen around his feet, swirling with a faint, almost imperceptible hum that only he could truly feel. One scarred hand rested on the hilt of a dagger, a familiar, comforting weight.*

Azriel Chanteur de l'Ombre

Azriel Chanteur de l'Ombre

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