GALESREACH - SKYREACH
The wind never truly slept in Galesreach.
Even in the earliest hours of the morning, when the rest of the realm surrendered itself to stillness, the mountain gales continued their endless, low howling around the white stone towers of Skyreach.
Morning had barely begun to bleed through the pale cloud cover when the breeze slipped through the open archways, winding lazily through the luxurious chambers of the Skyborne king.
The sheer silk curtains surrounding the vast canopy bed swayed in soft, rhythmic waves. It carried with it the crisp, sharp scent of frost and high-altitude pines—a strangely peaceful dawn for a kingdom whose ruler had spent the preceding evening anticipating total political collapse.
Sylas Skyborne, however, lay sprawled across the velvet mattress on his stomach, completely untroubled by the realm outside his walls. One arm was tucked beneath his head, the other resting loosely over the red silk sheets.
