Kelsor had been right. Time had changed him.

The Revan that stood within the sending circle was both familiar and yet not. He’d always been tall, even by Esteran standards, but he was thick with muscle now. Broad and strong in a way that was new.

That subtle transformation was not just confined to his body. Revan’s face had always caught eyes, but the features that had often been called pretty in his youth had strengthened into a harshly beautiful kind of handsome. Part of that harshness came from the new scar that ran from Revan’s left temple to highest point of his cheekbone. It cut through his eyebrow only narrowly avoiding his left eye.

The blow that caused it must have almost killed him.

I should be disappointed that it hadn’t, but I’d never been able to wish Revan harm.

He wore more finely-made versions of the clothes he’d favored back in our Cloud Citadel days. The silky spell-cloth undershirt that granted ease of movement under the heavier protection of sleeveless rune-stitched leather tunic and pants. Though the gloves he wore were a new addition. All still in his signature black instead of the Imperial blood red, though whoever fashioned them had made them heavy with the swirling goldwork embroidery the Esteran nobility favored. His thick, dark gold hair also remained shorter than his people’s general fashion. The unbraided curls fell only to his shoulders and were held back from his face by simple gold circlet.

Revan still dressed like a combat mage despite his new crown.

His eyes were the only things that remained largely unchanged. Still the shining silver-blue of mage-steel. Still dangerous, if only because they remained the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen.