Khairo had fallen.
Few truly grasped what that meant. A legend undone, a citadel of half a millennium brought to ruin. A feat the Confederation had chased for generations, dreamed of in fireside tales and songs of vengeance, now accomplished in their lifetime, by their hands.
They had not only torn down a city,they had shattered an empire, maimed another, toppled the order of the world.
The Sun Palace, once the holiest jewel of the desert, stood desecrated. The marble that had borne sultans and priests was now wet with spilled wine and seed. Every ten steps, orgies bloomed like weeds, sailors rutting with slaves, some with each other, with anything warm enough to take them.
Those not fucking drank till their wits failed, stuffed their bellies with stolen feasts, or fought over gems plucked from shattered vaults. The air reeked of sweat, blood, incense, and piss. The sacred halls of the Sun God had become a brothel, a tavern, a gutter.
And everyone was glad.
