Asher's gaze turned toward the source of the voice, William and Finch's eyes following his as theirs shifted in unison. From above, Instructor Elowen descended, her form slicing through the air with a grace that seemed almost unreal, landing with a ease and gentleness that surpassed even the most agile feline.
She remained every bit as beautiful and flawless as any person could be, her black jumpsuit clinging tightly to her form, perfectly complementing the depth of her obsidian eyes and the sleek cascade of her black hair flowing down her back. Her face appeared youthful, yet Asher was not deceived by appearances.
At the Academy, he had learned that those who had reached at least the Swiftstar Life Rank could manipulate the appearance of their physical age almost at will. To Asher, this was a question that had finally been answered. Lyra, who was over forty, bore the visible marks of her age, her features reflecting the passage of time.
