The Council of Shadows
In the heart of the forgotten palace, the old rulers convened in secret. The walls, lined with ancient tapestries and darkened by centuries of neglect, seemed to close in on them as the murmurs of their voices filled the chamber. The light of flickering torches cast long, shifting shadows that danced along the stone, as if the very walls themselves were alive.
At the head of the table sat Lord Veltheor, the oldest and most cunning of the rulers, his eyes like pits of darkness, reflecting the weight of centuries. He was the mastermind behind the rising darkness, the one who had long manipulated the threads of fate, and it was his will that had set the wheels of this conflict in motion.
“Their victory was only temporary,” Veltheor’s voice was smooth, cold, and fille
