Arthur stood in the center of the dust cloud that erupted around them, the acrid smell of vaporized concrete filling the air.
Despite the devastation surrounding them, his powerful body remained completely unaffected.
He reached up and secured his mask, ensuring his identity remained concealed for what came next. The familiar feeling of the mask provided psychological comfort despite the unnecessary precaution.
Back to being Azarel. Back to business.
Arthur's hand found Aetherion's scaled head, fingers gentle despite the violence they'd just survived. "Aether, return to your small form."
The void dragon's massive frame compressed with spatial elegance, his large body of primordial power condensing into kitten-sized adorability.
Aether landed on Arthur's shoulder with grace.
Arthur carefully lifted his companion, placing him within the concealed folds of his cloak.
