Deep into the night…
Boom!
The great doors of the Sacred Hall flew open, their hinges groaning as they swung inward. Kelvin stormed in, his boots echoing across the marble floor. Urgency bled from every step he took, but so did something deeper—dread. His face was carved into a mask of tension, as if he carried a truth too heavy for a single soul to bear.
He didn't notice it at first.
The candelabras that lined the pillared walkway, the great golden chandeliers above, each meant to burn without end in reverence to the hall, were dark. Snuffed out.
The entire hall, sacred and eternal, lay in cold silence, shrouded in a dense, unnatural gloom.
And then he saw him.
Or rather... he felt him.
Asher sat upon the throne at the far end of the hall, slumped back against the cold blackstone seat as if lifeless. Only his legs lay visible beneath the fall of shadows—but it was the eyes that betrayed his presence.
