THE LOUD BANGING AT THE DOOR woke Hemlock on the morning of the next day. He roused from his sleep to find Razill peering down at him with swimming pools of bronze. Just like his polished skin, his eyes were also unique. A peculiar obsidian sheen that changed colors in the light. Sometimes dark blue, sometimes darker, ranging from mild indigo to a deeper onyx.
Hemlock suspected it was the touch of magic in the man's Mithosian blood. Afterall, the Shagan warriors shared the heart of their flying horses; bonded with the massive beasts as one would bond with his child.
Hemlock cleared whatever remained of sleep in his eyes with a wipe across the face and stood to his feet. Razill gave him the space needed but kept silent the entire while as he watched Hemlock peruse the room for his clothes. Finding the discarded pair of dark Spinner's leather by the foot of the bed, Hemlock hurried into it as the knocks that had awoken him from his sleep hadn't seemed to cease.
