Koah Mallor had died a valiant death.
At least, that’s what his father proclaimed as they brought his sickened, white corpse back to the shores of Vian’s Edge. The boat had sailed to see nine moons and nine suns, and each passing day, the dead body of Koah Mallor had rotted even more than before.
They cried for him, not his father, but his brother, Konan and his lover, Wryla of Edin. They wept over his disfigurement, the worms and the mites of the ship’s wood infested in the crevices between his eyes and teeth and hands, so Wryla could not kiss her lover goodbye for one last time or touch him as he used to touch her. His skin had molded and turned blue, his eyes an abyss of cold darkness.
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