Narazoth sat under constant guard day and night. His cell bars were covered in a wire mesh—on Revin’s command—to keep animals from sneaking in. Narazoth reached out with his mind and felt the mere thousand or so automatons he still controlled, hiding throughout the continent.

A thousand. The amount would be incomprehensible to any other beastspeaker, but to Narazoth, it was a pittance. He didn’t know why he held onto them, what would he do with them? His life’s purpose had proven to be a delusion. He could feel echoing whispers of Jebuthar’s will still within, but they were only shadows. Jebuthar had been him all along. He wasn’t just Narazoth anymore, he was a new man. A combination of two people.

If only he had retained Jebuthar’s lack of guilt and singular vision.

“Jebuthar,” that Almerian scientist woman said. What was her name again? …Lemri… That was it…

“I’m not Jebuthar,” Narazoth said, “He never existed. I am… Narazoth.”

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“What is wrong with you?”

She sat on a bench in the cell next to his, but hers had no mesh covering it. No need. She couldn’t master beasts.

“I was wrong. I was always wrong.”

“I don’t know why you’re doing this, but we must prepare!” She sounded urgent, terrified even. “The end is coming! Our telescopes have seen it! Aren’t you going to do something?”

“I don’t know if I believe what we saw in the beyond. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Narazoth curled up in the corner.

“If the end is coming, I’m not the one to stop it.”