He sits amongst them. He watches. He waits. He kills. The puppets play in the shadow of The Lion, while the man waits for their master to reveal itself from the curtain of false admiration. Thunk! The dagger strikes the table sitting in front of Voras. He proceeds to pulling the weapon out of the cracks in the wood and starts to spin the poisonous blade on the table, like a clock hand rewinding time. His family butchered. His children, his wife and even his brothers. Everyone. Their blood and flesh decorating the tapestries as he lay on his knees, watching his world crumble right before him. A broad, gilded figure appeared at the end of the hall amongst the soaring flames. it was speaking, but not in human tongue. It did not see Voras, nor