Couriers dashed off in all directions, formation masters began inscribing ancient runes into the walls, chefs raided the spirit beast pens, and musicians hurried to tune celestial zithers that had not been played for centuries.
Meanwhile, Riley remained expressionless, unmoved by the flood of activity around him.
He didn't need the attention. He didn't need the reverence.
But it amused him, in a distant sort of way.
He had been feared, worshipped, hunted, and exalted in more worlds than even the immortals here could comprehend.
He had long since grown indifferent to the rituals of power—but it was pleasant to see how quickly the world bent around him.
Moments later, he was escorted through the winding stone paths of the Raven Clan's inner sanctum.
High walls carved with sacred glyphs loomed on both sides, and the air grew more refined the deeper they walked.
