The throne was made of bones.
Not symbolic… Not sculpted to look like anything… Real bones.
Stacked, fused by heat, some still darkened, others bleached by time. Skulls formed the backrest, arched ribs served as arms, and thick femurs supported the structure like columns. A monument to the idea that there, one did not govern—there, one dominated.
The surrounding hall was vast and dark, illuminated only by white flames burning in suspended braziers, floating as if the light itself were afraid to touch the ground. Shadows danced on the black stone walls, creating silhouettes that seemed to move on their own.
From the throne, a voice echoed.
Low… Controlled… Dangerously calm. "Repeat."
The former mayor of Athenion swallowed hard.
