Inside the column, there was no stone at all.
It was a scene that made one sick.
Countless golden nerve fibers densely filled the entire stone column, intertwining and writhing, their surfaces covered with a translucent spiritual membrane, akin to blood vessels not yet fully formed.
These fibers were not still; they pulsed.
With a steady yet cold rhythm, contracting and expanding, as if the entire Holy Hall itself was breathing.
Eduardo saw these fibers extending in all directions.
But all their endpoints eventually followed the thick main lines under the floor, converging towards a singular core.
The white throne, atop the thorn-patterned feather crown.
Wings like thorns opened and closed at an extremely slow pace, as if adjusting their breath or waiting for some appropriate signal.
Every weak pulse would trigger a synchronized tremor in the internal neural network of the Holy Hall.
Eduardo could not comprehend the significance of this structure's existence.
