View character profile for: Islana Annora
View character profile for: Shalia Nix
View character profile for: Oshar Kahreth
Gra'akast
Tamazzalt, The Ascendant, stood in the balcony of his quarters gilding a goblet of wine, looking out at te fading light pouring into the city.
Three Penitents had arrived in less than one full day. The lowest number ever of penintents answering The Call, since the coming of the First Seer.
They had been so close. He looked up at the night sky and at the waning moon. Three more nights before the New Moon. Three more nights before the Trial was due to start. It had been such a elegant solution. No Penitents, no vessel, no Seer. And the first Seal would be broken with minimum bloodshed. Instead, now the price would be steep. For everyone...
He pushed such thought aside for a moment and cast his eyes across thw flat rooftops of the city. Somewhere below, agents of the Inquisition were stalking the shadows. Ready to attack and disrupted their plans. He didn't know how they had come to be here and how they could have know that the Horde was about to be Risen but he trusted Shalia Nix account of last night's events.
He had seen the rage in her eyes. The icy grasp of death, in her gaze at the thought that she was hunted. He had seen the cold fire burn in her words and in that moment he could see what Koshnem had seen in the girl half a decade ago. Tamazzalt has sensed the power emanate from her body and soul. Such raw passion, so much talent, so much power still untapped. How he wished he had been the one finding her.
His mind turned to the Trial. It was his responsibility to decide the nature of the test for the Penintents. He thought about the red haired girl. An Helian none the less. A young witch, just at the cusp of adulthood. And if records were accurate the exact same features as the first Seer.
A thought had started to occur to him, maybe, just maybe she could be the key to circumvent the Seals, to put an end to two thousand years of sin and betrayal. To bring Her back.
He drained his cup and turned to his room, casting his mind to the Herald of the Maelstorm. Oshar Kahreth could not be far...