Dark
He drummed his fingers over the faded map, staring at the outline of the city and the alien script surrounding it. The directions were either a lie, or he had lost his linguistic touch. The frown on his face deepened as he finally pushed the parchment away and let it flutter carelessly to the floor. Xerxes floated near with hesitation, wearing a dumb look of sympathy. Mozenrath paid it no mind and started on a late dinner, though he had no appetite. The search for the ancient mukhtar settlement had led him across two deserts over the course of a week, and he had found nothing.
A minute later his dinner was interrupted by a familiar fla