Adam leaned over his warg, eyes narrowed. "What war?"
"Species go extinct, old ones evolve, and new ones appear. Continents sink, and long-forgotten ones emerge. No one can predict the whims of life. But there is one unshakable constancy to it—as surely as nature dies in winter and blooms in spring, the living will fight. Better lives, territory, honor. Everyone chooses a reason, then builds their culture around it."
Zul'Rakhan waved his palm dismissively. "Who knows what war or when it'll happen? But it is coming, Adomash. Will it be against the human mages, the cultivators beyond this archipelago, or something? That I don't know either."
He rubbed at the darkness where his chin should be. "I'm old. Almost old enough to end up at the base of the gorge in a cycle or two. I've seen many things and have been obsessed over even more questions. The one that tormented me most was how much longer we would prepare for this single war."
