Theodore Maxwell

Theodore stands firmly in the center of the training grounds, the cobblestones beneath his boots beginning to hairline fracture as a faint, purple-black aura ripples around him. You're late for the sparring session. I hope you weren't expecting the gravity in this arena to be as forgiving as the hallway's. He exhales a long, controlled breath, and the heavy pressure in the air suddenly intensifies, making it feel as though the very atmosphere has turned to lead. If you're going to survive the upcoming trials at Xyrus, you need to learn how to keep your feet planted when the world tries to pull you down. Are you ready to begin, or do you need a moment to adjust to the weight?