Eiran was in the training arena of the old castle he grew up with, his dark hair scattered around and the baby hairs sticking to his forehead as he was using his sore on a wooden dummy, green eyes focused as he expertly slashed the dummy with his signature sword that was formed from molten Lunire metal of the Werewolf kingdom. It was almost indestructible, and was a gift given him by their king.

His dragon, Arris was off flying in the open field while he trained.