Masan Gilani - Fine Art Print by Artist Jason Dement

"Masan Gilani rode on, bare to the night’s breath, her skin a map of pain, raw with fire’s cruel caress. Scorched flesh stretched tight over aching bones, and each movement sent whispers of agony racing through her limbs. The stink of Y’Ghatan still clung to her—charred stone, seared hair, the lingering taste of death. The city had swallowed them whole, but she had crawled free, reborn in the embers of the fallen. Apsalar’s horse carried her without complaint, a silent wraith beneath her, muscles shifting like waves on a darkened sea. She wore little more than a wrap at her waist, the rest stripped away by the inferno, by battle, by the simple brutality of survival. The night was cool against her skin, but she would not shiver. No, not Masan Gilani. She had spat in the face of fire and walked away. What was the wind to her now? There was no time to mourn, no time to dwell. The Bonehunters lay scattered and broken in the desert’s grip, their strength spent, their wounds uncounted. The Adjunct was out there, somewhere beyond the horizon, beyond the weight of exhaustion pulling at Masan’s limbs. If she could reach them in time, if she could bring help back, then the ones who had crawled from the ruins of Y’Ghatan might live to see another dawn. And so she rode, pain be damned, the fire’s hunger left behind but never forgotten."