Whispered Fears
The interior of Leon's chamber was hewn from thick, solid stone, each wall smooth and reinforced by magic and muscle. Warm yellow orbs glowed faintly above, casting the space in a gentle amber light.
At the center stood a wide table with some chair around of table, and table surface was cover by its dark sheets drawn tight and neat, clearly prepared in advance. On either side, tall stone doors were etched with faded Moonwalker emblems—marks of an ancient bloodline. Each detail whispered of lineage and secrets, of a history kept behind closed walls.
The shelves along the walls were crowded: scrolls curled with age, blades worn but still sharp, relics and enchanted fragments resting beside maps drawn in careful ink. No windows broke the stone, only a few thin vertical slits high above, letting in faint drafts. This wasn't just a room—it was a sanctuary carved into the mountain's heart, a place tied to Leon's name and legacy, passed down in silence.
