The heavy timber gates of the Sanctuary did not just open; they seemed to groan under the weight of the presence standing before them. It was a sound of ancient wood complaining against a force it was never meant to contain.
The air around the entrance grew cold, thick with a scent that was not of the forest or the swamp, but of ozone and sun-baked stone.
At the head of the group stood a male who looked less like a beastman and more like a celestial being carved from obsidian and gold.
Standing at a staggering 7ft3, his build was that of a Greek God. His shoulders were as broad as a mountain ridge, and his lean, muscular frame rippled with a latent power that seemed to hum beneath his skin.
His eyes were a piercing shade of molten violet, and they surveyed the guards with a calm that was far more terrifying than any snarl or roar could ever be.
