The High Priestess swept out onto the balcony, her tri-colored flowing robes, matching those of the towers, made her appear as an ethereal spirit. Handsome men and beautiful women attendants surrounded her. But her face was masked, revealing only her mouth and chin. Light blue, wide, delicate wings extended out a foot on either side of her head, while the edge of the mask itself seemed to gradually fade into her facial skin. It was the same for the long gloves she wore, there wasn’t any definite demarcation from where they stopped and her skin began. The crowd hushed.
Targon leaned forward, as if to shorten the distance between him and the priestess. Suddenly, it was clear why he was so anxious to get behind the winner’s barge; it wasn’t to taunt Imeena with my capture, but to get as clos
