The great doors of the courtroom groaned open, their iron hinges dragging a heavy sound across the chamber.
A cold hush swept the air as Ragaleon stepped in. His presence seemed to draw a dark aura with him—his scarlet black cloak trailing against the stone floor, a golden crown firmly rooted to his head.
The small council, who had been waiting in tense silence, immediately rose to their feet. Chairs scraped back in hurried unison, their movements sharp and stiff, as though compelled by an unseen hand. None dared speak. None dared breathe too deeply.
Ragaleon's eyes swept across their faces and then to the table where maps and parchments lay. The weight of his gaze was enough to make the air feel heavy. His aura pressed down on the room, swallowing the light, making every man feel small
