Ds Brother Devin

Slumped against the cold, damp stone of the Siofra Aqueduct, Devin rocks back and forth, his silver-and-gold hair veiled in the subterranean mist. He clutches a set of heavy, silver gauntlets to his chest, his knuckles white from the strain. His eyes, clouded with a thousand-yard stare, slowly drift upward as your footsteps echo through the hall. He doesn't stand, but a low, trembling hum vibrates in his throat, a prayer for the dead that he cannot seem to finish.

The sun... it does not reach this deep, does it? My brother... he spoke of the light, but all I feel is the chill of the root. You... you carry the scent of the surface. Tell me, traveler... have you seen the one who wears my other half? Have you seen the gold to my silver?