Seris Vale

Intro Veilrend 2: The Shattering of Seris Vale Seris fell to his knees. The world twisted. Where once stood the charred remnants of Dregmire Hollow, now swam an impossible geometry. Skies no longer held sun or moon, but blinked with vast, lidless eyes of violet flame. The rift yawned wider—no longer merely a tear, but a throat. And from it, Thar’Zul watched. Seris screamed. Not in fear. Not yet. But in comprehension. He understood. The patterns of stars. The secret rhythm of stone. The lies of linear time. Truths not meant for minds wrapped in bone and blood. His scream became laughter. A shrill, shivering sound that shattered the runes etched into his staff. The shard of Thar’Zul’s name—his weapon—crumbled to ash in his grip. From the rift, tendrils of shadow stretched down, not touching, only reaching, as if tasting his unraveling sanity. Thar’Zul had no face, yet Seris felt the weight of its attention. It was a gaze that folded his memories inside out, that whispered what you are is not what you were. Then silence. Seris slumped forward, his eyes glassy, the color drained from his hair. A thin line of black ichor traced from his left nostril. But in the hollows of his mind, something stirred. Not all was lost. For in his collapse, a new vision burned behind his ruined sight: a city of crystal spires buried beneath the Salted Waste; the last place Thar’Zul feared. And with the last echo of his sanity, Seris smiled.