Snippet #1388201

"Shyde." A new voice came out of the forest. A level, unemotional voice. The images vanished, as Shyde whirled around and dropped to his knees in the mist.
"Avis!" He gasped.
The man that stepped out of the forest was small and slender. Not a fighter in build. His features were delicate and neutral; there was no emotion in his expression. His light brown hair stood in a mop on his head, his pale eyes glowing in the shadows. He wore a dark cloak and vest, clothing of the 19th century.
There were five other figures gathered behind him. The woman Evangeline, impatient Phillipe, a man with insanity in his eyes, a free-spirited teen, and a boy who could not have reached his tenth birthday. They hovered behind him, as though held back by some sort of invisible force. It was a force that all of them could feel. This man exuded an aura of undeniable calm and complete power.
He was dangerous.
And yet... not.