The guest chamber of the Lord of the Under Realm was nothing like Seraphine had expected. She had anticipated cold stone, perhaps iron bars, the harsh minimalism of a prison cell even if gilded.
Instead, she found herself standing in a room that could have housed a small village. Vaulted ceilings disappeared into shadows above, lost among dark silk banners that hung from unseen rafters. "Wow! This is over the top!"
The walls were paneled in black wood so polished it gleamed like still water, and between each panel, velvet drapes the color of dried blood pooled on floors covered in thick carpets that swallowed her footsteps whole.
A fire burned in a hearth carved from obsidian, the flames casting strange shadows that seemed to move independent of the light.
"Why the hell i'm, um, here anyway?" she mumbled. "What the heck? Am I hallucinating or something?"
