The chamber is an austere vault of stone and echoing silence, a far cry from the ornate halls and grand banquets I’ve come to expect in this place. Tonight, all those trappings of elegance have fallen away, leaving only a sacred emptiness that bristles with tension. I step inside, my eyes adjusting to the low-lit torches that circle the walls, each flame revealing a swirl of ancient symbols painted on the stone.
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I can hardly breathe, my pulse rioting as my gaze lands on the center of the room, where a broad table of polished wood stands, surrounded by robed figures whose faces are half-hidden in the dancing glow. Each flicker of light casts elongated shadows on the floor, and I feel caught in the push and pull of primal energies far older than myself. This is the first official signing
