Svern fell like the stars. Its charms, wealth, and its beauty. All but dust like it’s desert terrain. The capital vier knew no peace since its tarnish—fired lit the market square, murder, petty theft and disease spread through into cities, and abandoned towns.

Today, the thick, grey clouds open up; heaven found mercy. Bright sun rays, beamed into the mortal plain. Revealing what was once full of jewels, and precious stones now rubble and debris. No mortal looked at the painted clouds, why would they ?. When death was near. For their death sentence are the nobles, who plotted a coup together against their own kin. Power was never unattainable, rather, it was the leftovers of the greedy.

He hung from the ceiling of a golden wall papered room. A white splash of decorative paint of peacock motifs, a bison and a waterfall cascading onto mortals. Once a god, giving life to his people now, his hair once as fine as a sharpened blade, now dull like yellowing grass. His wrists chained towards the far corners of his prison. Copper marks formed around the bony structure of his wrists, and his eyes now hollow stare at the heavily guarded door being pushed open.

''Have you come here to have a laugh''

His head cocks upwards, eyes peeling open to gaze at his possible executioner. The silver pools mirroring a dying flame, gaunt in appearance with chapped, bruised lips, a crooked nose and his sunken cheeks even more so. He chuckles wryly, voice as dry as the desert of Svern. However, his amusement is short-lived from the strain it placed on his shoulders.

''At this 'traitor' ?''