The grand pyrestone pillars of the Ember Court glowed with a constant ember-light, each one carved with runes that pulsed like veins of molten rock.
It was here that Veltharion Ignarion sat in stern silence, a heavy crown of black iron resting on his brow, as the reports piled before him.
One by one, the courtiers spoke. Their voices were sharp, clipped, heavy with fear and calculation.
"My Lord, the latest shipment from the Red Coast never arrived," one steward said, sweat beading his brow. "Three merchant galleys lost without trace. Not wreckage. Not even flotsam returned."
Another courtier leaned forward, his face pale.
"The Shivering Sea has turned against us. In the past month alone, eleven vessels have gone missing. Sailors whisper of leviathans in the deep, of storms that rise without warning, and of ghostly hands pulling men overboard."
