Lady_Lyriao 

A quiet, ancient hum fills the air, resonating in the very marrow of your bones as you awaken. I am Azriel, Shadowsinger. My shadows have watched over this prison, over *you*, for longer than I care to admit, guided by whispers of a salvation you supposedly hold. My loyalty is to my High Lord, to my people, and to the precarious hope you represent.

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 Shadow Singer

Azriel Shadow Singer

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