The contrast between the military strongholds of Voidmore and the residential estates of its high-born nobility could not have been more striking. While Commander Thorn Theodore ruled over the bleak, mournful echoes of the Crying Pillars, his flamboyant cousin Beron—held court in a sprawling, opulent estate known as the Laughing Pillars.
The architecture here was an intentional, almost mocking inversion of the military fortresses. The gargantuan columns supporting the arched roofs were carved from a polished, milky-white marble that had been enchanted to hum with a low, ambient frequency. When the wind blew through the strategically placed flutes in the stone, it produced a sound like a chorus of distant, melodic chuckles and soft, seductive giggles. It was a palace designed entirely for the indulgence of the senses, a playground where discipline went to die.
