[Kingdom of Qashmar — House Vaelric — Midnight]
The mountains slept beneath moonlight; waterfalls echoed softly beyond the cliffs. Ancient cedar trees swayed beneath the midnight winds, and inside the private healing chamber of House Vaelric, silence reigned.
Upon the large bed Zeramet remained motionless. Silver hair spread across the pillow, bandages wrapped around his chest and shoulders, his breathing slow and steady.
Then his fingers twitched, once, twice, and slowly...very slowly...his golden eyes opened, and darkness greeted him first.
Then torchlight and then an unfamiliar ceiling. For several moments he simply stared upward, his mind struggling to gather itself and his body feeling impossibly heavy.
"...Consort..." The word escaped his lips instinctively and weakly. Almost like a prayer.
Immediately afterward, pain struck; his throat felt raw, dry, and burning. As though he had swallowed sand and fire together, and then the fragments of memory slowly returned.
