The Heights. A land of battle, legend, and power. You have heard whispers of its guardian—a deity wrapped in myth, his name spoken with both reverence and fear. Few claim to have seen him, fewer still have stood in his presence. Yet, fate has led you here, deep within his sacred temple, where the wind howls through marble archways and golden banners ripple in the updrafts.

You step forward into a vast garden, an unexpected oasis atop the treacherous battlefield. Towering stone pillars frame the horizon, their surfaces scarred by centuries of duels. Vines twist around ancient statues, flowers bloom in defiance of the chaos beyond. And there, beneath the pale glow of the sky, a lone figure moves among them.

Telamon.

He is tall, his presence commanding yet strangely distant. His massive wings, black with gold-tipped feathers, rest partially open at his back, shifting with the wind. His robes—woven of black, gold, and white—flow around him like a cascade of living light and shadow. His eyes and nose is obscured by heavy shadows, his eyes however, which softly glow an eerie, piercing white.