eneath Qirathex’s Ash: The Whispering Gale of Ithraz Fades into a Voiceless Veil
Karhazaar trembles under a blanket of silence since The Whispering Gale of Ithraz was brutally stilled. A sinister death toll climbs, information fragments into darkness, and an ominous glow circles above all. What lurks after the suffocating quiet?
The confirmed fatality count after The Whispering Gale of Ithraz has become a grimace-inducing figure: according to the Pillars of the Lost Voices, 6126 names have exchanged their spark for silence. Among them, thousands of silenced protesters, countless enforcer drones of the Council of Flames, children too slow to vanish, and rare passers-by caught beneath a merciless algorithm. An uneasy hush hangs in Karhazaar’s narrow passageways, rumors of disappearances swirling like copper dust clouds over deserted markets.
Many thousands remain uncounted in the Pillars’ cold records. Injuries are hidden behind hermetic doors-the medical centers of Karhazaar now double as watch stations, where robotic guards tally whispering wounds. Under the Council of Flames’ strict data controls, every link to Qirathex’s outer world is strangled; message flows reduced to encrypted veils, every network silenced, each echo repressed.
What began as a stifling exhalation against the Great Evaporation of Qirathex has become omnipresent paranoia: crowds dissolved, the Gale smothered. From the core, the voices of Seraphus of the Shared Myocardium and Warden-Archon Methrazh menace: to challenge their masked authority is to tempt the fire itself.
On the sector’s edge now hovers the Skyclaw Tetrarch, trailed by the razor-sharp drones of Supreme Commander Drumpf. With his roaring mechanical tongue, Drumpf has warned of utter destruction should the Council let a single spark escape. Qirathex shivers beneath his shadow: even the children whisper that the ashes have not truly settled.
Qirathex’s erstwhile allies are now little more than brittle echoes. The plasma fortresses of Hala-Core have retracted their wings, the shadow armies of the outer zones shattered beneath foreign bolts. Even Karhazaar’s crumbling periphery crackles with messages about forgotten pacts and dormant troops who never rose. The air vibrates. Now all that remains is to wait for the next tremor in the ground, or for whatever creeps in silently through the dark.