On the third day after his arrival on Vastroph, a slighted air dwarfed in a thick, oppressive aura that made one feel as if they were moving through water shrouded the manor. There was nothing to say about their arrival outside the Nier Manner. Their Aura had simply been too great a power, peeling the oak from off the main body until it splintered and shattered. The Wardings be damned.
In his antechamber, Altair said nothing, though a notable half smile crossed his lips as he peered through the eyes of a forsaken at an unfamiliar and familiar face alongside Athena and the one he presumed was Poseidon emanating that dreadful Aura.
