In the next moment, Morgan was drawn into a different memory.
Morgan found himself standing before thousands of cheering citizens.
Flowers filled the streets.
Children smiled as Modric rode past on horseback, greeting ordinary people by name.
Suddenly he was back on the moonlit balcony.
Morgan grimaced slightly, raising a hand to massage his throbbing temple.
"The speech...of course..." he mumbled, nodding his head slightly.
Of course, the prospect of a speech was quite unsettling.
In truth, it was down right terrifying.
Giving a speech in front of the citizens of a bygone prosperous city was still a daunting task even if most of the people that lived here in this mirage of the past conjured by the black mist were probably if not entirely dead in his time at least.
What did it matter?
What was perhaps even more unsettling was just how it was happening.
All of it should have been impossible and yet it was happening.
Morgan turned his gaze to Lysara next to him.
