The sun over Vaelith rose with a blinding brilliance that morning, yet its warmth felt like an insult to the skin. To Dayat, the light was no blessing. After days of interment within the foul, stagnant air of the subterranean cells, the sunlight piercing through the canopy of the World Tree felt like a physical assault. His eyes stung, as if thousands of needles were being driven into his pupils.
Dayat could no longer walk unassisted. His head throbbed with a rhythmic, agonizing pulse. Two Paladin guards gripped the chains around his neck, dragging him with callous indifference toward the organic elevator that led to the capital's main thoroughfare. Dayat squinted his hollow eyes, trying to make sense of the world through a haze of exhaustion.
