(Neutral Planet Cyreth, Public Square Broadcast, A Common Cult Citizens' POV)
Across the countless neutral worlds scattered through the universe, every major plaza, tavern, and trading hall fell under the same silent spell as the broadcast began.
The skies above Cyreth, usually filled with the soft hum of airships and market chatter, went eerily still as the largest holo-screen in the capital square flickered to life, projecting the image that none of the Cultists wished to see.
Their Dragon.
Their savior.
Stripped off his basic dignity and forced to stand chained, naked, bleeding.
The sound of the crowd from Voralis roared through the speakers, spilling across cities and marketplaces alike as the ceremonial drums beat like funeral bells.
The voices of Righteous citizens jeered and cheered, overlapping with the rhythmic crack of the whip that echoed from the transmission.
*WHIPLASH*
*WHIPLASH*
