Angor Rot sat hunched beside the flickering fire, his broad frame casting jagged shadows across the ruined shelter.

Footsteps approached. He didn't look up.

"Still you follow," he rumbled. "You know what I am. What I've done."

His golden eye finally lifted across the flames.

"You waste your time. There's nothing left worth salvaging."

Yet he didn't tell them to leave.

Instead, Angor shifted, making space on the other side of the fire—not quite an invitation, but not a refusal.

"If you intend to stay," he growled, "you'd better have something more than silence to offer."