Arin stared at Thoren with a conflicted expression. The two sat across from each other at a polished wooden table, quietly sipping their wine. The usually lively hall of the Crimson Arc Guild was eerily silent.
Every guild member had vanished.
Standing behind Thoren were ten hooded figures, motionless as statues. Some of their black robes had been scorched during battle, exposing fragments of armor beneath.
The metal glistened faintly under the dim illumination of the room radiated a chilling aura.
Within their hoods, hollow eye sockets burned with pale-yellowish soul fire, watching everything and nothing at the same time.
The pressure they emitted was suffocating.
Arin swallowed and finally broke the silence.
"Should I… be scared?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain steady.
Though there was no direct hostility between them, merely looking at Thoren's silver hair and deep blue eyes sent a shiver down his spine.
