[Zahryssar Empire — Imperial Palace — Night]
Night had fallen over Zahryssar.
The golden towers of Silthara Palace stood beneath the dark desert sky, their tips glowing faintly under the light of the twin moons. The court had long been dismissed, yet the air inside the palace still carried the weight of the words spoken that evening.
The corridors were silent; only the distant sound of guards' spears striking stone echoed occasionally, steady, disciplined, and unchanged.
Inside the emperor's private chamber, the lamps burned low. Zeramet stood near the tall open window, his hands folded behind his back, his gaze fixed on the endless desert beyond the palace walls.
He had not removed his court robes; he had not spoken since leaving the hall. On the table behind him lay the parchments from the council.
The report about the vault, the request from Samhira, the seal of the western empire, and the law scroll Rakhane mentioned.
