A man walked down a long, dark corridor, his steady footsteps echoing off the polished marble of the grand palace.
Bluish magical crystals glowed on the walls at regular intervals, casting flickering shadows across the tall columns and bathing the passage in a pale, spectral light.
He was tall, noble, and strong, with black hair, golden eyes, and an arrogant face—yet one worthy of such arrogance.
His attire was luxurious: an elegant, form-fitting suit and a red half-cape draped over the right side of his back, swaying with the rhythm of his steps.
That man was the current king of the Burning Ice Kingdom, Godric Vorhn.
He stopped before a massive black steel door, the place of rest and seclusion for one of the five Ancestors who protected the royal family of the Burning Ice.
Ysara Vorhn, his grandmother.
Godric raised his hand to knock, but it wasn't necessary.
"Come in." A soft voice drifted from the other side, sweet and mature, smooth as if wrapped in silk.
