The heavy iron door didn't just close; it fused with the stone wall, the seams vanishing under a ripple of violet sorcery that turned solid metal into something resembling scarred flesh. The silence that followed was momentary, broken instantly by the rhythmic, mechanical heartbeat of the Void engine.
The laboratory was a cathedral of horrors, illuminated by the flickering, artificial white light of the vats and the pulsing, bruised purple of the Void Heart at the center of the room.
"Stay close," Lucien commanded, his voice returning to the authoritative baritone of a King, though it was frayed at the edges by the trauma of his recent awakening. He stepped in front of Gwen, his hand moving to the hilt of his obsidian blade, his body a shield of scorched armor.
