The next day started off slow and heavy, as though the sunlight was unwelcome. The large palace was empty and eerily quiet, and a solemn air settled in, making the faintest of breaths stand out, let alone speaking.
When death fell, everything went still, speechless, and motionless before it.
Nothing to say.
Nothing to do.
Only Death had the supreme reign.
No one would ever dare disturb its solemn presence, as it reminded them of how swift and unpredictable it was. And how, despite everything they might do, it was coming for them for certain.
It was so humbling to be reminded of one's inevitable end.
The maids and servants lined up out in the yard, while the soldiers and guards stood on either side of the bier that the priests were carrying Shapur's corpse onto.
Arslan followed in their wake, but stopped at the top step of the stairs. That would be where he would be bidding farewell to his cousin.
