"The wise soul feareth not death: rather she sometimes striveth for death, she goeth beyond to meet her. Yet eternity maintaineth her substance throughout time, immensity throughout space, universal form throughout motion."
You see Winterborn Xolaudas Dunul-Adenin, Spectre of Elanthia, a Kaldar.
- He has a square face, blued steel eyes and a straight nose. His cinereous hair is hip length and thick, and is worn tied back in a thin braided tail. He has fair skin and an athletic build.
- He is tall for a Kaldar.
- A stoic snow hawk carved from a white sapphire with piercing blue eyes floats lazily around his left forearm, glowing with a lustrous sheen against his skin.
- He is an adult.
- He has a neatly trimmed mustache that frames his upper lip and a short pointed goatee. Two thick steel rings encircle either end of the mustache, the metal polished to a mirrored sheen.
The tiny infant squalled against his mother's now limp body, her fists clenching and unclenching in distress. He gave a half-hearted sneer, expression lacking the menace of the man he strove to mimic. "Get me a wet nurse," his Father growled at someone unseen, and the hustle of hushed footsteps exited the chamber. A worm of pity wriggled in the boy's heart as the baby screamed again, the pitiful sound echoing through, he felt, his skull. "Mother called her Hedarya," the boy stated matter-of-factly, casting a glance back over his shoulder at the shadowy figure behind him. The statement was met with silence, then a careless snort, "It will do. Let's hope she takes after me and not that whimpering mage of a mother of yours." For such a large man, his father moved with silent ease, and so it was only when the shadow that loomed over him dispersed that he knew he was alone. Gazing into the vacant, tear-reddened face of his mother, he drew closer, braver now that he was temporarily relieved from scrutiny. "Hedarya," he whispered, catching one flailing fist with his fingertip.