[The Hand Behind the Terror?]
The High Priestess claimed the guards were prepared, that the wards would hold. Yet what held them? Flimsy protections that split like rotten bark, leaving too many dead and too few returned. And now the question burns across Sal’thorin: whose spell was it? Some whisper it must have been Zamel, the Terror of Sal’thorin. None doubt his skill in punishment — his record of forty Stigmas in a single day is still muttered in fear. They say his weaving burns deeper than the skin and into the soul. But protection? That has never been his craft. Others insist it was Velara herself, the High Priestess who gave the command. Did she overreach, insisting on protections not yet ready? Or was her mercy too thin, stretched over a spell that demanded more than even she could give? Still some name other high priests. Round and round the whispers go, yet no one steps forward to claim the weaving. The dead are buried, the branded live in shame, and the priests stand silent on their dais. But while they hide, the people are left with only questions. And when questions are left unanswered, they grow teeth. What we do know is this: Zamel does not suffer scrutiny. “If the Terror looks on you, he will surely find sin!” say even the nobles. It is his way — to see fault, to condemn, and to call it justice. Now, he turns that same gaze upon us. Upon these very pages. Perhaps he believes fear will root out truth. But the truth, once spoken, has a life of its own. And no terror lasts forever.
