path that led to Zed’s domain flitted and flexed underneath the
pallor of Jhin’s boots, a cloud of ashen-colored dust kicking back
as he dismounted from his horse. He crossed fingers with a blackened
splotch on the colt’s canvas-creamy fur, but did not let it trot
with him any closer. The horse was stalwart, Jixi was, but save for
the animals that lived and breathed the dark dearth that hung over
the grounds, scaring it was inevitable the longer it waded inside.
Averse to having his main means of transportation running wild into
the northern bush, Jhin tied the reins up to an unusually
hopeful-looking oak tree whose leaves were nothing now but buds and
set off to the rest with his own two feet.
wish for me when I’m away,” Jhin said behind him.
imagined it to huff.
tip of his golden claw struck the trim of a quaint but sizable box
that he carried with him. He hoped that the sight of him carrying it
meant that he wouldn’t be hassled to enter. Ever since the incident
with the rubber-headed disciple and now Jhin had to worry about
receiving shurikens into his shoulders from the treetops above–
worse, that disciple hadn’t even perished in the altercation! (Even
if Jhin was the reason why he remembered that disciple as
“rubber-headed.” Truly, they should’ve expected what they got
for getting between the Demon and his all too-prized sugary
brows furrowed and he glanced at the box to re-examine its contents,
not that he hadn’t done so twice before. The same shimmer and swim
of iridescence hit his eyes and reflected the sheen of the dying sun
beyond him. Zed would adore it, Jhin knew. He would be a madman not
to. Satisfied with his tertiary inspection, Jhin closed the box and
settled on his way.