They made camp in the mouth of a dead titan's skull — a fossil from the First War. The air smelled like bone-dust and divine rot.
Lyssara sat near a flickering rune-lamp.
Vaeren stood at the edge, staring into the dark.
"You don't sleep," she observed.
"I did, once," he said after a long silence. "And the world turned while I did."
"Did you dream?"
He turned his head slightly. Enough to acknowledge the question.
"No. I was forced to dream. Every moment, I saw my empire crumble, my name forgotten, my chains grow colder."
Lyssara's voice was soft.
"Then maybe you should sleep now… of your own will."
A long silence.
Then:
"Foolish."
But he sat.
And for the first time in seven million years… he closed his eyes willingly.