The world shifted again, reality rippling like disturbed water, scenes dissolving and reforming around Asher in ghostly waves.
He stood once more as a silent observer, suspended in the endless flow of memory and time, and this time, his heart trembled as familiarity seeped into his bones. The scene he saw now struck deeper, more personally, than any before it.
He found himself floating in the grand throne hall of his kingdom—Zalthor, the heart of the Bloodburn Kingdom. But this was not the place he remembered. Though familiar pillars rose high and imposing, marked by intricate carvings and curtains in shades of black and crimson, the architecture felt subtly different—newer, cleaner, brighter, untouched by the darkness and war he knew too well.
