The Howling Throne
The moment they stepped inside, the world around them shifted.
They stood in an endless expanse of white. No walls, no sky, no floor, just an infinite void that somehow held them aloft. Then, slowly, figures began to take shape around them, forming from mist.
Elior’s breath caught as he recognized them.
Myrra stiffened. “These are...”
“The dead,” Bram whispered.
Before them stood the fallen. Soldiers, friends, enemies, every life they had taken, every sacrifice made in their name. Some bore the wounds of battle, others the hollow stares of those lost to time.
Hot Chapters