CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Bo and I landed in a dark room.
A tattered red flag drew my eye upward to a razor of light covered in motes of dust.
My leg was wet. I stood, shook off a damp puddle.
A dank, stuffy smell overwhelmed me. This place had not had fresh air in centuries.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness. I was on a mezzanine looking down over a massive palace floor with a checkered black and white design. Beneath the floor, the golden cores of the dead glowed like jellyfish in the lake under the palace.
There was only one place I could be: Halgeron the Lich King’s subterranean palace.
I peered over the mezzanine. Natkaal stood in the center of the floor.
On the other side of the hall, the dim orange needlepoints in Halgeron’s eye sockets looked down upon Natkaal from the shadows of
