Slowly, he turned his head, his silver eyes locking onto Daurgien.
The towering beast straightened, his claws twitching as he appraised the newcomer. Despite his overwhelming size and monstrous appearance, there was a flicker of hesitation in Daurgien's movements, a rare acknowledgement of the power standing before him.
The Nynthall's lips curved into a faint smirk, a gesture devoid of warmth or humour. "You've been busy," he said, his voice smooth yet laced with an undertone of condescension.
It wasn't a question, but a statement.
Daurgien's eyes narrowed, the predatory glint in his gaze sharpening. "And who are you again?" The beast growled, his voice a guttural snarl that reverberated across the canyon.
The tension between the two was palpable.
Jolthar, still catching his breath from his prior battle, could only watch, his mind racing.
Why was the Nynthall here?
