Arisen Azir strolled the gold-cleared Emperor's Way. The tremendous statues of Shurima's most punctual rulers – his precursors – watched his advance. The delicate, shadowy light of pre-dawn leaked through his city. The brightest stars still shone overhead, however they would soon be snuffed out by the rising sun. The night sky was not as Azir recollected that it; the stars and the groups of stars were misaligned. Centuries had passed. With each progression, Azir's overwhelming staff of office struck a desolate note, resounding through the capital's vacant lanes. At the point when last he had strolled this way, a respected monitor of 10,000 tip top warriors had walked afterward, and the cheers of the group had shaken the city. It was to have been his snapshot of brilliance – yet it had been stolen from him. Presently, it was a city of apparitions. What had happened to his kin? With an imperious signal, Azir ordered the sands next to the roadway to rise, making living statues. This was a dream of the past, the echoes of Shurima given shape. The sand figures looked forward, makes a beeline for the enormous Sun Disk hanging over the Dais of Ascension a large portion of a class ahead. It hung there as yet, announcing the radiance and energy of Azir's realm, however, nobody stayed to see it. The little girl of Shurima who stirred him, she who bore his heredity, was no more. He detected her out in the betray. Blood bound them together. As Azir strolled the Emperor's Way, the sand-echoes of his kin pointed up at the Sun Disk, their happy articulations swinging to frightfulness. Mouths opened wide in quiet shouts. They swung to run, bumbling and falling. Azir watched this all in miserable quiet, demonstrating the veracity of the last snapshots of his kin. They were decimated by a rash of inconspicuous vitality, decreased to tidy and thrown to the winds. What had turned out badly with his Ascension to release this calamity? Azir's concentration limited. His walk turned out to be more unfaltering. He achieved the base of the Stairs of Ascension and started to climb, taking them five at any given moment. Just his most confided in officers, the ministry, and those of the regal bloodline were permitted to step foot upon the Stairs. Sand variants of these most supported subjects lined his way, faces upturned, scowling and crying peacefully before they too were cleared away by the winds. He ran, making the strides speedier than any man could, claws diving into the stonework, cutting wrinkles where they got. Sand figures climbed and were then wrecked, to either side of him as he climbed. He achieved the best. Here, he saw the last hover of spectators: his nearest assistants, his counsels, the devout ministers. His family. Azir dropped to his knees. His family was before him, rendered in impeccable, unfortunate detail. His better half, overwhelming with the tyke. His bashful little girl, grasping his better half's hand. His child, standing tall, on the precarious edge of turning into a man. With sickening apprehension, Azir saw their looks change. In spite of the fact that he realized what was to come, he couldn't turn away. His little girl concealed her face in the folds of his better half's dress; his child gone after his sword, yelling in rebellion. His better half... her eyes broadened distress and sadness writ inside. The concealed occasion impacted them to nothingness. It was excessive, however, no tears welled in Azir's eyes. His Ascended shape rendered that basic demonstration of despondency always lost to him. With a substantial heart, he drove himself to his feet. The inquiry stayed in the matter of how his bloodline made due, for it most without a doubt had. The last reverberate anticipated. He progressed, ending one stage beneath the dais, and looked as everything played out before him, reenacted in the sand. He saw himself, in his mortal shape, ascend into the air underneath the Sun Disk, arms wide and back angled. He recollected this minute. The power coursed through him, mixing his being, filling him with its perfect quality. A newcomer shaped in the sand. He confided in bondsman, his magus, Xerath. His companion articulated a noiseless world. Azir watched himself smash like glass, detonating into bits of sand. "Xerath," inhaled Azir. The double crosser's demeanor was mysterious, yet Azir could see only the substance of a killer. Where did such detest originated from? Azir had never known about it. The sand picture of Xerath rose higher into the air as the Sun Disk's energies centered into his being. A unit of first class watches hurried toward him, however, they were all extremely late. A ruthless shockwave of sand flared out, crumbling the last snapshot of Shurima. Azir remained solitary among the withering echoes of his past. This is the thing that executed his kin. Azir dismissed, similarly as the main beams of the new first light struck the Sun Disk overhead. He'd seen enough. The sand picture of the changed Xerath fell behind him. The day break sun reflected blindingly off Azir's faultless brilliant protection. Right then and there, he realized that the backstabber still lived. He detected the magus' substance noticeable all around that he relaxed. Azir lifted a hand, and a multitude of his world class warriors ascended from the sands at the base of the Stairs of Ascension. "Xerath," he stated, his voice tinged with seething. "Your violations won't go unpunished."
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