The Glamour Fades

As Vidrir takes the reforged blade in his hands, the glade quiets. Light blooms from the blade. It reaches out with gentle insistence, like morning sun breaking mist.

Slowly, the air around Vidrir shimmers. His beard lengthens. His frame grows leaner and older, not frail—but timeless. His robes take on an archaic but elegant style. A single eye glimmers with ancient wisdom; the other is gone, covered by a simple eye patch.