The throne room was bathed in twilight, but outside the distorted walls, there was no sun. The obsidian floors radiated a sickly glow, dark magic tendrils spreading across stone like stagnant blood that refused to dry. Braziers at the hall's edges burned blue fire that sent ugly shadows dancing in the vacant room. The throne itself—a hunched shape of bone and iron forged ancient—sat at the far end like some patient beast waiting to devour the unworthy.

Halvar arrived, slow and wary. ...