Even in the faint red glow of the lanterns, he stood tall, his aura low but unmistakably heavy—like a sword sheathed, but still sharp.
"It's done?" Valeris asked, her voice soft but expectant.
He gave a small nod.
Valeris's eyes flicked toward the blooming vines above the gate. "So that's what it looks like when you get serious."
Asher gave a small smile. "Just a warm-up."
Before they could say more, the inner doors opened again—this time with force. A group of armored guards stepped out, and behind them, an older man in regal robes marked with deep red and gold sigils.
His eyes were sharp. His presence commanding.
Varnis Patriarch.
He moved toward Asher with measured steps, stopping a few feet away. "You are the one who healed my daughter?"
"I am," Asher replied calmly.
The Patriarch looked him up and down—not dismissively, but as one measures a weapon.
