Xerxes's eyes opened, and his serpentine body immediately rose above the sand, describing a restless, jerky pirouette in the air. The sun was rising, and the sand began to burn his body. Had he been sleeping? For how long? And where is Mozenrath? "Master? Master...?!" The eel shook its tail and turned its head. No one... Only sand and the howling wind. He wasn't even in the Black Sands now. "Mozenrath...?"

Xerxes hissed and shook his head again, his fins flapping against his body. His master wasn't here. There wasn't even a hint of his possible presence here or his possible survival... He remembered how little time his master had left, could he really...

Xerxes didn't know what to do with this newfound freedom. For as long as he could remember, he'd served Mozenrath, but now he was gone. The only option was to find a new mad sorcerer and ask him to take over. Mozenrath certainly wasn't the best master, but Xerxes was almost certain he couldn't find a better option. But he wouldn't survive alone.

Xerxes' body sank to the sand and he sniffled depressively. He was completely at a loss.