The Silver Flame Sect's grand hall was bathed in the warm glow of flickering mana-fueled torches, their flames dancing against the carved redwood walls. At the head of the chamber, seated on an ornately decorated chair of molten steel and obsidian, was the Sect Master, Vaelin Drakov, the Patriarch of the Silver Flame Sect.
His sharp features, framed by streaks of silver running through his fiery-red hair, exuded an air of calm authority. Despite his usual serene demeanor, Vaelin's presence alone could command a room, his piercing gaze silencing even the most unruly of voices.
As he reviewed reports from the outer branches, a sudden knock echoed through the chamber doors.
"Enter," Vaelin called, his deep voice steady.
A disciple stepped forward, bowing low before extending a scroll bound with Kael's personal insignia—a blazing silver flame. "Sect Master, a letter from Elder Kael. It is marked urgent."