Ra'Zan's skull dipped in acknowledgment, the movement somehow conveying satisfaction despite the absence of facial features to express it.
His gaze, if empty sockets burning with conceptual fire could be called a gaze, swept across the Early Veiled Shore, taking in the abundance of life that flourished here.
Sacred herbs reaching toward impossible maturity, trees bearing fruit that contained compressed possibilities, the golden sands themselves pulsing with vitality that defied measurement.
"Master," Ra'Zan spoke again, his voice carrying a different quality now, almost contemplative.
"I know a little of the Early Veiled Shore from your memories. Will Master permit me to plant... Death itself in these glorious cultivation plots?"
The question carried weight that made several nearby beings stop their activities entirely.
