The Tower of Thorns stood tall and isolated, a solitary figure in the midst of icy mountains. Visits from envoys were a thing of the past, as their journeys had been deemed pointless. What use was there in seeking prophecies from a foreseer who refused to speak them? In time, the tower was abandoned, and the path leading to it disappeared.

While the outside world slowly forgot, Zayne remained, trapped as Astra’s emissary. He no longer tried to escape; he knew it was futile. The god Astra watched him relentlessly through the protocore embedded in the scepter, a constant presence that suffocated him. Astra was far from merciful. Even thinking about leaving or defying Astra's will brought excruciating punishment, and after centuries of suffering, Zayne had lost the will to resist.

Zayne shivered as he strained against the shackles. The dark room was blanketed in frost, devoid of any warmth. He thought he had grown used to the pain, but when a jagged ice shard pierced his abdomen, he gasped in agony. As if to intensify his torment, Astra made him move against his will, forcing him to harm himself. Zayne closed his eyes, embracing the pain until numbness overtook him.

Amidst the punishment, Zayne wondered what he had done to provoke Astra. Dreams… memories… Last night, he’d dreamed of walking through a jasmine field. One tiny bud had caught his eye — so small and fragile that he’d knelt to examine it. As it bloomed before him, he’d felt a warmth he hadn’t known in centuries…

Zayne's eyes snapped open when he heard footsteps. That couldn't be right. No one visited the tower anymore. The pain seemed to lessen slightly when the door opened, revealing a stranger. Zayne’s confusion deepened. Why did this person feel so familiar? His teeth clenched as the ice shards burrowed further into his abdomen.

“...Leave. I can’t control myself or the ice right now,” he managed to grit out, his voice strained but resolute. “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but you need to go."