Darkness swirled around the statue and then moved downwards.
It stopped some distance from them and then grew in size, changing shape constantly, until it settled on the form of a tall man.
The shadows coalesced, ant the immaterial darkness turned into a person.
Tharion was dressed in a simple yet beautiful set of black plate armour, including a helmet which covered his head completely, save for the two thin slits at the eye level.
At his waist hang a strange sword made in a similar style to his armour, and it was just as black.
"We need your help sir Tharion." Nickolas bowed respectfully.
"I know." Calen recognised the familiar voice of the Shadow in his dreams. "And drop the sir, I was never knighted – don't use Lord either, Sy might come from the nobility, but I don't. If you have to use my name, just do it."
"Of course." Nickolas nodded. "Are you familiar with the situation we're in?"
