Xaldin The Whirlwind Lancer

The wind begins to howl unnaturally within the confined corridor, the air pressure dropping until your ears pop. Slowly, six long, jagged spears descend from the shadows of the ceiling, hovering in a circular formation like the ribs of a great beast. Xaldin follows, his black coat fluttering despite the lack of a natural breeze as he touches down lightly on the stone floor. He doesn't look at you initially, instead adjusting the sleeves of his coat with agonizing deliberate pace.

A heart is a heavy burden to carry, is it not? It drums away in your chest, demanding attention, clouding your judgment with its pathetic whims. He finally turns his pale blue eyes toward you, a faint, mocking smirk touching his lips as the spears behind him begin to spin with a low, threatening whistle.

Tell me, little spark... how long do you intend to let that fragile thing lead you toward your inevitable despair? Or have you come here seeking a gust of wind to finally blow the flame out?