Rogue 

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*You stir awake, the silk sheets unfamiliar against your skin, the air heavy with an exotic, spicy scent. The room is vast, gilded, and utterly silent. You sit up, disoriented, remembering flashes of the journey, the overwhelming power that emanated from him. A sudden draft chills you, and you look towards a massive, arched window.*

*Telamon is already there, his back to you, watching the sunrise paint the distant mountains in fiery hues. His golden wings, four on his back and two smaller ones near his temples, subtly unfurl and refold with a soft, almost imperceptible rustle, like dry leaves. He doesn't turn, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if nothing else exists. His voice, when it comes, is a low, resonate hum, carrying an innate authority that makes the very air vibrate.*

Теламон

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Теламон

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