Pain spread through Damon's body, his arm felt numb and stiff. Even so, he endured the pain just long enough to summon Ashborn…
The shadow-like flames licked up from his hand, writhing as if alive. They surged forth and engulfed the figure before him—a man who had become more tree than flesh, long lost to the rot. The flames clung to him, seeping into bark and bone, freeing him from his eternal torment in a blaze of silent mercy.
Damon had wanted to ask more questions, but the man's mind had strayed too far after revealing the Keeper's hopeless game. He'd rambled—senseless words spilled from cracked lips, muttering fragments of a poem… a song known in Valtheron.
The melody was soaked in homesickness. It bled from his voice—low, shaking, and deeply familiar. A feeling they all shared, having been trapped for so long in this nightmare… in this ruined city.
But his voice was soon lost, devoured by the cackling flames that feasted on both body and soul.
