Chapter 111 - Chapter 111: The Wounded Dawn

The world in Rianor Sudrath's eyes resembled a bleeding watercolor painting, its colors blurred and running under the onslaught of an invisible rain. The thick, white fog and the slow descent of snow from the Northveil sky clashed in a chaotic dance, creating a visual layer that was both opaque and suffocating. The first sound he registered as his consciousness crawled back from the abyss was not the triumphant blare of a war trumpet, but the erratic, frantic rhythm of his own heartbeat—a sound akin to an ancient steam engine whose pistons were starved of oil and grinding against rusted iron.