The descent into the abyss of the palace was a journey through layers of history that the light of day had long forgotten. Zeven’s consciousness drifted in and out, a fragile vessel tossed upon a dark and turbulent sea. Every time he managed to claw his way back to reality, the cold, damp stone of the subterranean temple walls greeted him. The Alpha dragged him forward with a grip that never faltered, his footsteps echoing in the vast, hollow space beneath the foundations of the Fenrir estate. When they finally entered the inner sanctum, the air turned thick, cloying with the metallic, heavy scent of fresh, flowing blood.
It was a chamber carved from the very heart of the bedrock, circular and immense. The torches lining the walls burned with a sickly, violet flame that provided just enou
