The High Spiral overlooked the capital like a blade pressed against the throat of the kingdom.
White stone towers curled upward into the clouds, connected by narrow bridges carved with the insignias of the noble bloodlines that ruled Hubriś. From below, the structure looked almost beautiful.
From inside—
it felt cold enough to preserve corpses.
The council chamber rested at the highest point of the Spiral, built beneath a domed ceiling painted with scenes of imperial victory. Massive windows lined the curved walls, revealing the city far below: endless districts divided neatly by class and bloodline.
The noble quarters glowed gold beneath the winter dusk.
The labor districts remained dark.
Always dark.
Inside the chamber, the elders sat in their respective seats, backs straight and heads held high beneath embroidered robes heavy with status and old power. Rings glittered on their fingers. Medals rested proudly against their chests.
