Rise Of The Non-Truebloods

"It is not the wind-elemental body imprint. Specifically, an incomplete version."

The voice of a handsome middle-aged man, whose youthful visage belied his actual age, cut through the murmurs of the crowd. He appeared to be no more than thirty years old, clad in golden Brander Clan sorcerer robes that clearly signified his status as a trueblood member of the clan. As soon as Gaius and Baylar heard him speak, they instinctively bowed to their knees, their respect palpable.

"Uncle Hidaer."

"My Lord Sandstorm."