The hall went dark without warning. Every torch flame shrank to a deep crimson pinprick, then steadied, casting long bloody shadows across the obsidian floor. Outside the Spire's black walls the sky had turned to ink; the rare Obsidian Eclipse had begun. Stars vanished behind an unseen veil. Inside, the air thickened until breathing felt like swallowing warm oil.
Aiden stood at the center. The chandelier from last night had retracted into the ceiling. In its place, a single massive obsidian lens now hung suspended, focusing the eclipse's shadow into a perfect black disc on the platform below.
Every branded chain answered the alignment at once—pulsing once, slow and heavy, then extending outward as thin living shadow-vines.
