At the head of the convoy rode Siris.
Her dark hair was tied in a high ponytail, swaying with each powerful stride of her mount, an imposing beast adorned with crimson feathers that shimmered with energy. Her gaze was firm, unwavering, locked onto the road ahead. The polished silver of her armor blazed under the sun, drawing every eye it passed.
Behind her came the knights, dozens of them, each radiating the same sharp presence. Their eyes and expressions carried the weight of triumph, like soldiers returning from war. They rode broad, muscular horses and surrounded a luxurious carriage bearing the unmistakable crest of the Draven household, clearly carrying someone of great importance.
Another carriage followed closely behind.
