She sat in one of the only chambers in Kai-Ren Thoth not suffused with light. Azaean enjoyed the sun as much as anyone else, but she also needed her hovels, little places in her great castle where she could feel like a child again, out of sight and out of mind. Her private study was only one of several chambers she’d altered to resemble the villa she’d grown up in. The room was painted black and furnished with only a large gold rug, a pair of bookcases stuffed with ancient tomes and a desk topped with yellow candles which barely shed enough light for her to read by. Azaean never left Kai-Ren Thoth – it was her sanctuary as much as it was her great white cage. She enjoyed being waited on by flocks of servants and protected by endless waves of guards, just as she enjoyed her magic, her power and secrets. But the fact remained that she would never leave her castle again, and so she did everything she could to make it a place she wanted to be confined in, right down to the inclusion of her secluded hideaways. The Thirteen, of course, knew that she had her sanctuaries, and they fretted and frowned about them, insisting it was dangerous for her to be secreted away where no one could come to her aid if she was ever in danger. She dismissed their fears. She had many enemies both within and without her crumbling Empire – to show her face outside of Kai-Ren Thoth would be suicide, but she was safe in her own castle, even when alone. The White Dragon had spent too many years ensuring she’d live forever to allow herself to go unprotected for even a moment. The Thirteen’s concern – feigned or otherwise – amused her, as did the fact that they still acted like they thought her weak and frail even when they all knew how she’d single-handedly ripped the life from her father and his supposedly indestructible Hellknights.
