Duskfire Glacier absolute and pure

long enough to know what’s coming.
the reply is dry, heavy with the weight of bloodshed past and bloodshed promised. blackfell does not bristle under the title—he wears it like armor, earned and sharpened by years of war.
his gaze does not soften. if anything, it hardens.
faust has a mind for seeing use where others miss it. a pointed statement, though not a condemnation. still, there is steel behind the words. i will find out if he’s right.
he raises his chin, looking down upon this wraith of a man. you can fight?