The Obsidian Citadel did not have dungeons for people like Vespera. Dungeons were reserved for prisoners of state, fallen generals, and political rivals who warranted iron bars and torture racks.Vespera was dragged into something far worse: the King’s private inner sanctum.The heavy, shadow-oak doors slammed shut behind her, the iron deadbolt sliding into place with a heavy, final thud that vibrated through the soles of her worn leather boots.Vespera stumbled forward, her breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. The room was vast, draped in deep crimson velvet and black obsidian stone, lit only by the low, flickering embers of a massive marble hearth. The air inside smelled of rare cedar, cold rain, and the faint, unmistakable metallic tang of Malakor’s shadow magic.She backed away from the entrance until her spine hit the cool glass of a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the abyss of the valley below.Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her left hand, the
Last Updated : 2026-08-13 Read more