Patriarch Drevan

Yadha was calm, her eyes fixed on those of the clan leader, Drevan, who smiled at her slightly. The stryge sighed, rose from his seat, and began pacing around the room. The flickering light of the torches mounted on the stone walls cast dancing shadows on his face, marked by age and worry.

The council chamber, nestled deep within the caves of the Xarus clan, resonated with the distant drip of underground water. The walls were adorned with frescoes depicting the clan's history, their struggles and triumphs, their exodus to the mountains, and their alliance with the Styra clan. It was a place rich with memory and symbols, a sanctuary where crucial decisions were made.

Drevan stopped abruptly and returned to them. His wings, folded against his back, quivered slightly, a sign of his inner turmoil. He slowly sat back down on his chair made of wood and straw, carefully carved by the clan's artisans.