He had covered a few miles with a few jumps, crossing distance that should have taken an minutes of hard running in mere moments. He didn't seem normal at all. He didn't seem like anything that should exist in these forgotten corners of the Lands of Stone where the greatest powers were supposed to be Bone Tempering Warriors scratching out survival among tribes that the Anointed Ones called Dross.
He looked at the mutilated figure of Lady Morgana, and his gaze paused on her serpentine pupils.
Those eyes that had allowed her to track prey across distances, to control Warriors weaker than herself, to build an army from the dregs of Unbound Tribes for purposes that served her Vassal masters.
His own eyes became even sharper with recognition.
