Although the sky was full of chaos, the blue lakes beneath the island remained serene. The blue waters enveloped all creatures in a tight embrace that bestowed upon them everlasting serenity. Deep within the waters, inside a fissure in space, wrath was being recreated.
Azkahar assumed his draconic form as he gazed at the human sitting in his blue palace. The man had unshaven black hair that the occasional breeze ruffled. Below his neat eyebrows were a pair of golden eyes that looked at him with infinite curiosity.
His lips pressed firmly together as the man voiced his question, confused, "What do you mean release all wrath?"
Azkahar knew that the notion was absurd to a man who had suffered from wrath to be asked to release it all. However, his studies had led him to this conclusion. The side effects came from restraining wrath, not from using it.
