Chapter Thirteen
From the Ashes
Saviadro sat upon his throne in Mar Valion. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say Saviadro’s shadow sat upon his throne. He felt the memory of his lips twist from within the hood of his new cloak. Even this weak semblance was not without its price. It required the power of the Stariquenya to maintain it. He suspected he would become used to it in time, and the concentration required would become second-nature. In many ways it would have been far easier for him to roam the bowels of his tower without any form at all, but his minions had been shaken by the events on the battlefield. A tangible presence was required to keep them in check.
In some ways, his new form was an improvement on his previous one. His ashen, scarred skin no longer pained him. And h
