Silver Moraine show me the way

Faust. The wraith turned the name over in his mind, letting it settle like an echo against cold stone. Kaan. The word held weight, a title spoken in a tongue unknown to him. Its meaning eluded Astier, but its significance did not; there was power in it, worn like a mantle. The way the man carried himself, poised and assured, left no doubt: a commander, a force to be reckoned with.
Astier shifted, his own posture rising to match. Once, long ago, he had been a man like this. And he would be again.
His lips parted, yet no sound came. The decision had been made; the path was clear. So why did the words catch in his throat, jagged and unyielding? A rough inhale, a pulse quickened. His gaze, cold and gleaming, found the shadowed man.
„For now,” The knot in his throat shattered like glass, each shard cutting deep. Pride burned as he swallowed it down, but still, the edges remained; sharp, bitter, unwilling to be dulled.
„Would that be a bother?” Not that it mattered. Faust’s permission was a formality, nothing more. Astier had no intention of fading, he was here, and he would remain. Silent now, he stood, awaiting the answer. Pale gaze shifted to his glacier kingdom, beckoning. Intrigued, he found himself wishing to know more of it.