The pain was unexpectedly dull even as the knife cut through my skin. The priest stopped right above my wrist: the blade had made its way from the tips of my fingers to the confines of my palm. Seemingly satisfied with his work, the priest backed away as I resisted the urge to scratch. He began chanting words in a language I didn’t understand; it was old tongue.
The room was quiet; eerily so. Just moments before it was abuzz with the sounds of delegates conversing. Karr Joon and the other two elders of Ishlan had been defending the actions of Ishlan’s council for the better part of the day. They had faced the boards of Zanox and Angsk who wanted to improve Ishlan’s relations with its neighbouring nations. Astrok had been busy regarding some political dealings in Virav since the start of the week, so they were excused. However, the lack of one council did not seem to reduce a number of words being spewed forth in the council room. Karr was wondering if he would be able to hear again after the day’s events when a messenger was let in.