A giant round table stood at the centre of the grand hall. Five golden pillars held up the towering ceiling, each carved with a coiling Lóng whose head loomed over the chair beneath it, casting a long shadow across the table.
Five seats sat below the five dragon heads, and five figures occupied them. All of them were of advanced age, their faces lined with deep wrinkles. Even the youngest in appearance had several grey strands threaded through his long, bright crimson hair, which reached the floor and lay coiled there like a sleeping serpent.
"Iskandor's life lamp has been extinguished," the eldest among them revealed, his broken, husky voice still carrying an undeniable authority. The worn white wings at his back were riddled with tiny holes, and reddened sores marked the white scales along his forearms. He was Nivaraeth Neige Valcyrion, ancestor of the Neige Clan and a Second Level Divine Ascendant.
