All at once, Ethan's expression hardened.
He stepped past the platform's edge and looked down. What had been empty space below was now filled with a violent gale. A massive tornado surged up from nowhere, its spiraling layers climbing higher and higher, making the broken buildings around it flicker in and out of view like they were being swallowed and spat back out.
At the center of the tornado, a man with a grotesque, wrong-looking face was held aloft by the wind.
His body carried traces of draconic features, but it still clung to a human outline. Call him a dragon and his face and limbs weren't complete; call him a man and the tail behind him—swaying slowly in the wind—made that a lie too. He spread his arms, calm as if he were greeting guests at his front door.
"Welcome."
His voice cut through the howling wind, landing clearly on the platform.
"There's nobody else here. Just me, and you. Want me to give you a proper welcome?"
Ethan didn't answer.
