The stars moved slowly above him as he descended from his spacecraft, each constellation unchanged by time, yet he, Riezekiel Mors, had returned completely transformed. Once a forgotten heir, a shattered soul devoured by pain and shadow, he now stood at the threshold of a reborn destiny.
The planetary winds of Sirius swept across his armor like whispers of the past, but he paid them no heed. His steps were silent as he crossed the barren lands surrounding the ruined Mors Dukedom, the place that once held the weight of his title, his family, and his curse.
Riezekiel felt a strange stillness inside him. He expected rage, longing, sorrow, anything but this profound sense of focus. The duchy had long fallen into decay. Its towers crumbled, and its flag torn by storms and neglect. But none of it moved him to tears.
