[Eastern Zahryssar — Imperial Encampment — The Next Morning]
Morning across Eastern Zahryssar arrived beneath restless winds.
The imperial encampment remained unusually silent after the horrors of Sah'qir. Even the blue serpent flames surrounding the tents burned lower today, as though the desert itself sensed something unnatural had returned.
Far from the central imperial tent, inside an isolated guest tent guarded heavily by imperial knights, sat Slyvarakh alone.
Completely alone, and somehow that made him even more terrifying. The tent interior had already begun changing unnaturally. Black corruption spread slowly beneath the carpets. Silver flames flickered against bronze lanterns without consuming them.
The air itself felt rotten, heavy, and wrong. Meanwhile, Slyvarakh lounged lazily upon a chair placed near the open tent curtains.
One arm resting against the armrest. Silver eyes half-lidded while desert winds moved through his long, silver hair.
