Deep in the heart of Mournvale Abyss.
A gloomy hall hung suspended over the chasm. There were no torches outside—only layers upon layers of roiling dark energy rising from below, creeping along the stone pillars and across the domed ceiling in slow currents. The entire palace felt like it was lodged in the abyss's throat. Every surge of energy made the ancient patterns etched into the walls thrum with a low, heavy vibration.
A tall man stood before the throne.
Overbearing power rolled off him in waves. A blue gemstone set into his forehead flickered with an icy glow, and every time that light dimmed, the air in the hall seemed to gain weight. The people kneeling below instinctively pressed their heads even lower.
He stared down at them, expression cold.
"What is the meaning of this?"
His voice detonated through the hall, shaking dust loose from the pillars in a fine, gritty rain.
