The void around Damien trembled once more, like fabric stretched too thin. From the mist emerged the distinct silhouette of a figure, stepping carefully, patiently, as though the ground itself might shatter underfoot.
Gradually, the shape coalesced into clarity, a tall, thin old man with stark white hair flowing down past his shoulders, contrasting sharply against dark robes so faded they seemed woven from shadow. He looked perhaps sixty, yet something about him whispered of countless centuries spent in loneliness.
His presence was not strong, but it was profound, filled with the resonance of a soul lingering far beyond the boundaries of life. The aura he emitted was vast yet hollow, unmistakably powerful yet strangely diminished, like a star whose light still traveled through space, even though it had died long ago.
His gaze settled gently upon Damien, calm and filled with a depth of quiet curiosity.
