"Sniiiifffff… haaaah—!"
Lysander's nostrils flared up as he snorted a line of fine powder on the table. His hair got some powdered dust on them along with his nose.
Lysander rubbed his nose and leaned back on his chair, propping his legs on the table and taking a deep, blissful breath.
A tingle ran down Lysander's body as his mind wandered off to a higher plane. Everything began revolving in his vision and colors he had never seen before popped up one after another.
While he was indulging in such forbidden pleasure, outside his camp, the hard working slaves suddenly felt a tremor in their chests.
The tremors got more intense and the same occurred with the guards as well. Everyone turned to look at the source of the sound and found a silhouette of something closing in on them.
The crimson moon was up. The night was dark. Mist covered the waters and the visibility was only upto a few hundred meters.
