The world moves even if man wants stagnation. Change was an inevitable process. As life moves on, change must follow.
Having crossed so many milestones, Damon was a result of change—a product of it.
He walked through the land, passing by carriages with an air of mystery about him, his body covered from head to toe in armor, walking down the road to the city gates as if to say he owned everything.
The wind fluttered his cape as the sun kissed his dark armor.
A raven perched on his shoulder, adding to his mystique.
By his side, just a step behind, was an equally mysterious woman in heavy armor.
Her helm covered her face, but her blue eyes glowed faintly through the visor. Where she passed, a cold winter seemed to follow, and the clouds she summoned above created a gloom that only made the rays of sunlight bolster their overwhelming aura.
No words were needed. Even though they walked on foot, all the carriages and even battle-hardened adventurers parted ways to let them pass.
