The Council chamber was built for intimidation.
High ceilings arched into darkness, supported by columns carved from obsidian veined with silver. Ghostlights burned along the perimeter, their pale flames never flickering. The space smelled faintly of ozone and old incense — a blend of sanctity and threat.
Avery stood at the center of the circular floor, surrounded by the thirteen Council seats that rose like a jagged crown. Her wrists itched where spectral restraints shimmered — not physical bindings, but a containment ward humming faintly against her skin. A reminder that she was no longer trusted.
Kael stood a few steps behind her. Unlike the other reapers present, he didn’t kneel or bow. His armor was polished but plain, his scythe holstered across his back, his expression unreadable
