What had happened on the day of the W.O.O.D Hint Tournament was still a tale whispered in every corner of the city, a rumour that clung to lips the way smoke clings to a charred hall. Simma's fame had tripled overnight, he had become a figure painted in both awe and mystery.
It was no longer only whispered that he had fought in the tournament; now it was known, almost sung, that while others ventured into the Soulnexers' lair, he had entered the dreaded domain of a demon, and survived while he was still yet to become an azren.
Eyes followed him wherever he went, as though trying to peel back the layers of his silence. And if that weren't enough, Delilah seemed to orbit him like a relentless moon, always nearby, always eager to pry from him the secret of what had truly happened in that abyssal lair.
