Aaron followed Arjun out of the tent and was momentarily blinded by the sunlight. There was a small table placed near the entrance, surrounded by armed guards forming a loose fence. The army was busy with their activities outside of this semi-private meeting space. Aaron assumed it was a meeting table and hoped it wasn't a trial of some sort.

The lion-man, white-haired, scary lady, and Zeva sat at the table, looking at Aaron with wary, uncertain eyes. Arjun stood off to the side, his eyes focused on the distance. Two chairs, alien in design but unmistakably meant for sitting, stood in front of Aaron. He chose one and sat down.

The white-haired lady, regal and overbearing, stared intently at Aaron with disconcerting ruby irises. A small smile played at her lips as she steepled her fingers beneath her chin. The lion-man sat with his eyes closed, dressed in plain cloth garb and sporting a new slash over his eye. Zeva was the most expressive of the trio. She sat with tension, looking ready to break at any moment. Her eyes were swollen, and she had a hand massaging her temple as she looked off into the distance, avoiding eye contact with the battered soul who may have saved her.

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Aaron sat in silence for a full minute, the tension between them thick and palpable. Suddenly, he heard a buzzing sound in his head and felt a headache coming on. As he opened his mouth to speak, the headache grew stronger. Aaron put his hands to his head, the pain almost incapacitating him. But then, an explosive boom sounded out and the pain dissipated. He looked to see the trio at his table gazing upwards. Craning his neck, he followed their gaze to see a figure dressed in white slowly descending from the sky.

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Aaron couldn't help but feel a sense of sarcasm as he thought to himself, "That wasn't messianic at all." Completely immune to the supernatural hijinks occurring around him, he stared warily at the person wrapped in cloth armor. Thick pads of canvas-like material covered what would have been protected in a traditional set of full plate. High cheekbones framed a near-perfect face as white irises fell upon Aaron and moved towards the white-haired lady.

"Yuri," the white warrior grumbled with a voice that could only be produced by malfunctioning heavy machinery.

"Zarkhan," Yuri replied in a business-like manner as she pointed towards Aaron. The white warrior disappeared as Aaron felt his breath stop. He could feel a large palm grasping his head, and then a series of sensations that Aaron would shudder at for many nights to come. He felt icy cold tendrils permeate both his consciousness and the physical parts of his brain. It felt like a hundred straws slurping out his grey matter. He felt violated, naked, and empty. Rage started building up inside him as the tendrils receded into nothingness and the feeling of weakness passed.

Gasping for air and now on his knees, Aaron tried to center his breathing, but it was impossible. He felt as though an inviolable part of him had been shattered, as though he had been cut open in a fish stall and his guts had been ripped away. Summoning all of his strength, he looked at the outstretched hand of the warrior.

"Welcome to Ersetu, Aaron Wren," the warrior said in a gravelly voice.