Through A Thousand Broken Mirrors

Chapter - 172

His form was that of a man, yet everything about him felt fundamentally wrong, as though reality itself recoiled from his existence. The air around him crackled with a force both ancient and malevolent, distorting the very space he occupied.

A thick, rugged beard framed his angular jawline, streaked with hints of gray, marking the passage of time upon his otherwise powerful visage. Deep scars marred his weathered face—testaments to battles long past, each one telling a story of conflict and survival. A particularly jagged scar carved its way across his cheek and down toward his neck. It pulsed faintly, a relic of some primordial battle, its edges shimmering with residual magic that refused to heal.