Oath of Mourning
The figures that stood before them needed no appraisal. From their looks alone – as even their features were especially vivid to Skullius' extreme senses – it was easy to tell that they weren't the ordinary Sif guards assigned to Auroras.
If anything, the fact that they were so daring when speaking to Darwel, even if they were just delivering a message, spoke volumes about their position.
Sevill grew a little tense.
These were her peers.
The one of the two who had just spoken was a tall, muscular Sif male, only identifiable as such because of his voice was deep. His face smoothly coated with sandy skin was so beautiful and delicate that it could have easily belonged to a woman. His spiky dirt blonde hair was cast back, frigid, as though frozen in ice.
His eyes were so sharp and small that it looked as though he was squinting, yet the caramel glow from his irises was prominent.