"Some battles are not won by blades, but by burning what we once thought untouchable so the world may begin again."
The air was thick with rot and salt, the stench of the Deep One fouling even the sanctity of the winds. Waves clashed against the walls of the Pearl Castle like fists of wrath, and in the center of the chaos stood Vaelaryn's lifeless body, floating on black tides, and the sky had surrendered to shadow.
Prince Zynarion stood at the front, his silver hair whipping like a banner of doom in the tempest, laughter spilling from his mouth like venom. "You see now!" he howled. "The age of Morkai ends here!"
