Epilogue

In Erebossa, time is reckoned differently. Thousands of years flow by as though they were mere days.

In Erebossa, locations are reckoned differently. Some dwellings are in more than one place, at the same time and at no time.

In some parts of Erebossa, beings of tremendous power and purpose can anchor their abodes to a fixed reality.

In one such demesne, the greater fellshade the mortals called “Murena” dwelt.

Twisted and brutal in form and function, his halls were paneled in the flesh and blood, and mortared with the spirits of those he had broken. The screams of sorcerers who had not repaid their debts to him before they died rang out without ceasing. Unnatural creatures scuttled and skulked. Creatures native to his abode and bound to him, and creatures who in days of old wore the shapes of men. They could go anywhere they wished, so long as they did not wish to leave.

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Before him they fled, trying in vain to hide from his sight. But in Murena’s abode, no hiding place would avail them, nor any refuge to escape his rage or his boredom.

He did not slither forth as he used to, and that gave his prisoners and slaves some measure of respite.

A new prisoner occupied his time.

This one never screamed. Indeed, this one was bound in a singular fashion: in spirit, by the hand of Murena himself. Fulfillment of his plans obliged him to remain on guard, awaiting signs of certain conditions and consequences on Thuraia.

The hour had come; however.

And now it came to pass, that Murena had turned his attention from his prisoner. His entire being was fixed elsewhere, no longer on the purpose that had bound him just as much as he had bound his prisoner. His aid was needed, and he turned his baleful gaze to a new task.

And so it was that in that moment, in his dungeon, Nensela Sideris opened her eyes.