Varya watched as Canna descended from the treetops with quiet grace, his white hair catching the sunlight as he approached.
Sera, still catching her breath from their sparring match, looked toward the man curiously, her brow furrowing slightly. As her eyes roved over him, however, her sharp gaze quickly shifted to one of mild disdain. From his clothes, she could immediately tell he wasn't someone of noble standing, nor did he seem like a typical warrior. His attire was that of a common traveler—simple, nondescript, and practical. Yet something about him felt… different.
But what caught Sera's attention the most was that he was barefoot.
