The hallowed site of Yoiglah's repose was given a visit once again.
At the center lay Yoiglah, his colossal form—a blend of draconic sinew and crystalline growths—sprawling across a dais of polished basalt.
His scales shimmered with a soft glow, each one a showcase to his recovery from the Second Apotheosis incident, their edges now free of the cracks that once marred them.
As for the shrine above the massive tortoise's shell, they were the same with little to no change except for the appearance of a second snake that coiled the headless statue.
Kivas stood before him, her hands clasped behind her back, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp with concern. Her white-gold hair spilled over her shoulders, catching the gilded light as she tilted her head.
"Yoiglah," she said, her voice steady but warm, "Are there any lingering complications?"
