Jax headed back into the bedroom, walking towards the wardrobe carved out of tree bark, grabbing the clothes provided for him.
He selected a heavy, black silk robe that seemed to swallow the morning light, the material settling over his broad shoulders and muscular frame, the belt cinching at his waist with a soft tug.
Once the robe was on, he immediately headed for the door, yanking it open without a sounds. Immediately, he was bombarded by the early morning light that filtered through the leaves surrounding the outer walkway, casting soft bands of gold and green across the polished wood.
The air beyond the threshold was cool, clean, and layered with the natural mana of the Dark Elven settlement.
Standing in front of the door was Lyla, who was dressed formally this time, no longer in the lighter, mobile attire of patrol and crisis response.
