A black, gauntleted hand wreathed in smoke burst out of the mound of ash and soot. It startled the wolves, causing them to rise.
The white wolf tilted his head. He was still in Godfrey's skin. As the stranger rose, the wolf manifested Imperial over himself, rising in tandem.
His one eye watched the strange being nestled on one knee, head toward the ground. What was this? the wolf thought.
Who was this strange being made of gathered smoke? It had similarities to the demon kind but possessed such regality that his heart drummed.
Almost unconsciously, the wolf laid a hand on his chest. His claws met the breastplate of the Immortal Armour, who had claimed its new host. Its golden frame accentuated his beastly frame.
Yet, a great unease rose like disturbed waves of the sea. His impressive form was dwarfed in the presence of this shadow. This unknown.
The wolf heaved his greatsword, resting it on his pauldron.
