Finally, Zirikon brought them before a pair of colossal golden doors, their surfaces etched with patterns that seemed to shift when looked at too long, spirals of claw marks, wings, and fangs woven into a single, eternal cycle. Without hesitation, Zirikon pressed his massive hands against them. The doors groaned, then swung open with effortless grace, spilling radiant light into the hall.
Beyond lay the heart of the palace, the place where the king of the Menagerie awaited.
The figure on the throne claimed the room the moment their eyes fell upon him.
Krogan lounged sideways on the golden seat, his humanoid leopard form draped in regal garb woven with threads of deep crimson and gold. His hand rested against his chin, his gaze half-lidded, his expression one of weariness more than majesty.
