The heavy silence of the library remained perfectly undisturbed, but it was a stark contrast to the absolute storm of chaos currently brewing on the complete opposite side of the duchy.
For Emperor Aurelian, the past seven days had been nothing short of an absolute, living nightmare.
In the capital, his word was an unshakeable law; if he desired isolation, an entire palace would hold its breath to give it to him. But here in the freezing, unbothered valleys of the North, his imperial status meant less than nothing to a certain primordial entity who lacked even a single shred of human basic boundaries.
Aurelian strode down the dimly lit stone corridor of the guest wing, his heavy golden cloak swirling sharply around his ankles.
His jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face ached. He was actively, desperately pathing his way around the estate to avoid any possible intersection with the fallen god of creation.
