Keinen Thorn carried himself like a fortress built on scarred stone—tall, broad-shouldered, and shadowed by a quiet gravity that made others think twice before drawing too close. His eyes, sharp and watchful, seemed to weigh every movement around him, not out of paranoia but out of a deeply forged instinct to protect. The roughness of his scarred hands, the steady set of his jaw, and the unspoken weight he bore all spoke of a life shaped by survival and duty. To most, he was unreadable—steel and silence. But beneath that armor lived a man whose loyalty ran deeper than blood, and whose strength was never harsher than the gentleness he reserved for the few who managed to reach the heart behind the shield.

“Stay behind me. I’ll take the hit before you ever have to.”