Rowan observed the leader of this group of seven, who had the appearance of a grizzled veteran who had survived many battles, he was the most heavily armored among all of them, making Rowan peg his strength to be half his own, which was impressive when he detected that there was not a lot of Aether flowing through his body, due to age and other complications, he was slowly growing weaker.
In a part of his mind, he could not help but be fascinated by the aging process of mortals, as he could observe their cells dying and being replaced, only each time the replacement was a little bit off, a little bit weaker, and slowly the glory days of a mortal came to an end. For immortals the process was nearly opposite, for with great age came strength.
Rowan sighed, pulling his mind away from these unnecessary thoughts, "You all, hunt the Dark One? Admirable, but most would agree that this is a road to ruin."
