One Hundred Years After the Battle of the End of Times
Princess Yasmin sat on a simple wooden chair, her silhouette dwarfed by the cavernous expanse of the hidden sanctuary. The palace, carved deep into the bedrock beneath a mountain in the Oasis, was a relic of a forgotten age. She tilted her head back, her eyes tracing the intricate honeycomb vaulting of the ceiling—muqarnas that seemed to drip like stone wax.
Above that, the high dome displayed a sprawling mosaic. It was a list of names. The martyrs. The heroes who had thrown themselves against the Supreme Lord a century ago. Center stage in the artwork was Nebras. The mosaic depicted him leading the charge, azure sword raised, clashing against the darkness of the Supreme Lord.
