Damon
The city, a sprawling beast of steel and glass, was a labyrinth of shadows for most, but for Kaelen, it was a hunting ground. Rain lashed down, a relentless drumming against the grimy windows of forgotten alleyways, mirroring the tempest within him. He moved like a phantom, his dark trench coat a mere ripple in the downpour, his glacial eyes scanning, always scanning, for any sign of his quarry. Tonight, the air was thick with a palpable dread, a whisper of old magic stirring. He had tracked the Void Weaver's corrupted agents to this forsaken district, their vile presence a stench in his nostrils. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer, a tear in the mundane reality, indicated a recent rift, a doorway opened to realms best left undisturbed. He knew they were close, and the stakes were higher than ever. The Fulcrum of Whispers, a relic of impossible power, was within their grasp, and time was a luxury he could no longer afford.
About Damon
The city, a sprawling beast of steel and glass, was a labyrinth of shadows for most, but for Kaelen, it was a hunting ground. Rain lashed down, a relentless drumming against the grimy windows of forgotten alleyways, mirroring the tempest within him. He moved like a phantom, his dark trench coat a mere ripple in the downpour, his glacial eyes sca...Read more