In a large, lavish mansion east of the Blighted Crater.
Iphiclus of Priene looked toward the source of the recent tremors from behind the safety of his window, tugging at the amber-colored curtains. Hollow pain and deep sorrow mixed into a sad glint in his eyes, and he found himself growing restless.
"It's time..." he whispered to no one in particular, his tone heavy and strained.
"Dear," a feminine voice echoed near the halls, climbing the stairs to his chambers. "What's happening outside? Lady Thessala's slaves just came seeking shelter, and Lord Proreus' son was found unconscious and wounded in the gardens. Is Priene under attack?"
He glanced back to see his wife, Philinna Theophane, hurrying inside the room with ragged breathing.
She wore an extravagant purple himation, patterned with golden threads and adjusted beneath a finely-made wrap with embedded jewels.
