[Silthara Palace — Malika's Private Courtyard — Continuation]
The night refused to breathe; the moon hung high above Silthara Palace, its pale light swallowed by the endless darkness pouring from Malik Slyvarakh's body.
No servant dared approach and no knight dared breathe. Even the sacred trees surrounding the courtyard had fallen silent.
Lady Nyra remained upon one knee, one small hand resting against her throat where crimson fingerprints slowly darkened her skin and the other hand clenched Sarash's robes. Every breath burned, yet...she neither cried...nor trembled.
Before her stood the ruler of Zahryssar. Silver robes stirred beneath a wind that did not exist. Black mist curled around his feet like countless starving serpents.
His silver eyes...no longer resembled those of a living being. Darkness had begun devouring them from within. Behind him... Prince Sarash remained kneeling, his forehead pressed against the cold marble floor.
