The Howling Throne
The buildings around them flickered, becoming solid for a moment before fading into translucent images of what they once were.
A city alive with movement. Figures walked the streets, their forms flickering between substance and illusion, merchants selling wares, children running through the alleyways, robed scholars deep in conversation. The air buzzed with the murmur of voices, a thousand conversations happening at once, yet none fully understandable.
Then, as quickly as it came, the vision faded, and the city returned to its deathly silence.
Bram let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s unsettling.”
Rael ran a hand through his hair. “What is this place?”
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