In this place, in Kahl's domain, there is no one here to see. In this place, even if the world were here, still no one could tell, as the salt tears mix with the acidic rain already on his face. Here, he can cry, and nothing breaks but him.

The truth of Kahl, the the truth of the world: under fury, pain. One of the brushes against Zerxus's cheek, as soft and dissolute as wood ash. Others gather in his lap, a blanket of velvet and mist.