Tyler, now cloaked in the guise of Phantom Blackwood, walked with steady steps through the bustling halls of the Dragon Boat. At his side trailed two figures: the ever-proud Dragon Princess Zuzia, who wore her disguise like a nuisance she longed to cast off, and Myrtle, her anxious yet loyal attendant.
Everywhere they went, heads turned.
Not because of beauty— though Zuzia's faintly veiled dragonic aura always commanded attention— nor because of Myrtle's elegance. It was Tyler. The mask, the black suit, and more than anything, the oppressive pressure rolling off him like a storm about to break. His aura was quiet, yet too heavy, too dangerous, like an abyss with no end.
The guides, those eager hawkers who had rushed every group at the entrance, fell silent and retreated the instant they sensed him. Not a single one dared approach.
