With a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the walls like a slumbering beast awakening, what had seemed to be an ordinary wall shuddered, then retracted inward before sliding seamlessly to the left. It unveiled a void, pitch-black space, silent as death.
They stood within Asher's study, a chamber of old-world elegance and veiled power. The Kingmaker stood poised before the newly revealed passage, hands clasped behind his back, while Asher stood behind his vast mahogany desk, withdrawing his palm from a sunken print carved into the table. A small, blood-beading wound marked his palm but healed in an instant, as though the very air stitched it closed.
He cleared his throat softly, yet the sound seemed to carry command and in response, the dormant torches lining the walls flared to life.
