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It was a rare celestial event, when the barriers between the mortal realm and the divine grew thin. The moonlight that filtered into the cavern was not pale, but radiant, turning the damp walls to silver. Grizmak cowered in the corner, shielding his sensitive eyes, but he looked up in time to see the beam strike the statue.
But his prized possession, the crown jewel of his wretched existence, sat in the center of the cavern on a pedestal of petrified wood.
He shrank back, pulling his tattered rags tighter around himself. He waited for the scream. He waited for the disgust. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear the rejection that was surely coming.