We’ve finally reached the end, where there was a simple white door. It wasn’t big or fancy or didn’t even have a business look to it. It wasn’t even plain, it was just...blank...but not in the reassuring way that there was nothing there. It seemed there could be two ways to look at it: there was something hidden beyond that door, and there was something beyond that door that you didn’t want to meet. Sky held the door open for me, gentlemanly, and I walked into the room.
The room was not unlike the rest of the interior, except it had some furnishings: a not-so-comfy-looking white couch, a large painting of something I was unable to depict, a colorless desk and rolling chair. The chair was faced toward the painting, which was behind the desk and chair, and, when we entered, the chair spun around. There was a man in the chair.
His face was thoroughly lined with age and, perhaps, scars. He wore a suit that seemed to be made for him, the black and white colors complimenting his strangely dark eyes. I couldn’t tell what color they really were, but my best guess would be black or gray.
“Hello, Topaz. I presume you are wondering why I have brought you here. Well, you are a peculiar...guest. We don’t have many dark-winged people come to Aryll, besides the Phthorians. You are not...affiliated with them, are you?” The question was told with curiosity, but a liar didn’t have to tell that he highly suspected me.