Dyon sat silently on the shoulder of the puppet. He had finally calmed himself enough to think clearly, at least to some extent. So, he finally noticed its changes.
The stone was no longer anything of the sort. The puppet now had an obsidian sheen to it that was reminiscent of the Tree of the Life and Death. It made Dyon think that maybe he had misunderstood the makeup of the puppets. Were they connected to ancient singularity techniques?
If you thought about it, puppets that guarded the legacies of a race as powerful as the elves couldn't be simple. They had eroded to a point far past what Dyon could remedy currently, but, he'd slowly tease apart their secrets.
Every so often, Little Lyla would change their direction, but, most of the time, she played with Zaire who Dyon had brought out as well. After all, he couldn't just leave Little Black alone.
