Much can occur in an hour and did that final hour of that universal day, although the results would only be evident later. Big things, little things, all part of the whole.
In the Star Chamber there was no night or day, yet it felt like night with day awaiting. For Tristamil anyway; for all he knew it would always be dark now for Tymall. The twins continued to wrangle, although it was largely Tymall doing the talking, beseeching almost, attempting as he was to sway Tristamil to his path. Tris allowed him the voice, hoping hearing the futility of his imprecations his brother would hark to the disaster he was falling prey to. Despite all he’d seen and heard, Tris still wished his brother this final opportunity.
On Urac and Karakan it was deep night and, under cover of that darkness, armies mobilised. Vast numbers, Murs and Mysor would move out with the coming of daylight.
On Lucan tiny shadows flitted among the trees to stop and stare anxiously at the enormous traveller. At their head Thundor beckoned. He’d lead them aboard and hope for the return of the crew. Thundor was taking his people out of the Forbidden Zone.
The small Mysor force vacated Plural, recalled to Karakan.
Outside the Star Chamber, Kallanon paced, willing the hour gone so the next step could be taken. Watchers harked to the Murs and their movements.
The new day promised many things and foremost among those was change.
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