Nathaniel had not even wiped his tears dry before Jared caught him by the arm and led him straight to Elder Cillian.
"Nathaniel, this is Elder Cillian of the Sylvan Kin. He is a True Immortal Realm Level Eight, a venerable elder who has lived for more than 10 thousand years. The 300 elites sent by the Sylvan Kin this time are under his command..." Jared made the introduction cleanly, leaving no room for anyone to miss the weight of the man before them.
Nathaniel immediately clasped his fists. His voice still carried the roughness left behind after his throat had tightened. "Elder Cillian, thank you and the Sylvan Kin for coming to our aid with such honor. Everyone in Freevale is beyond grateful!"
Elder Cillian wore deep green spirit-wrought robes, and fine threads of verdant spirit-glow wound through the edges of his sleeves. His face was gentle and refined. His white hair had been tied back, and the calm weight of 10 thousand years had settled into his brow and eyes.
The wood-aspected spiritual power around him stretched deep and mellow. It was nothing like the harsh, domineering bite of celestial holy radiance; instead, it carried the soft breadth of something that nourished all living things.
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