The heavy ironwood door of the Imperial Caravan groaned as it swung open, the sound echoing through the hollow, frost-draped halls of the Sun-Seeker temple. The morning light, a bruised gold filtering through the canyon walls, caught the thin veil of steam that escaped from the carriage's interior.
Kassian was the first to step out.
He didn't look like a man who had spent the last week fighting a soul-consuming curse or a man who had just survived a life-or-death battle with a Sand-Drake. He looked reborn. The "Berserk" fire that usually haunted the periphery of his sky-blue eyes had been replaced by a slow, satiated glow—a look of smug, quiet triumph. He adjusted the collar of his black military tunic with a leisurely grace, his platinum hair slightly disheveled in a way that felt entirely intentional.
Behind him, Vera emerged, and the contrast was immediate.
