The chamber was swallowed in a gloom that even the flickering violet candles of Caelum's study couldn't fully pierce.
In the center of the room sat a device of exquisite, terrifying craftsmanship, a basin of polished obsidian filled with mercury that shimmered like liquid moonlight.
Caelum leaned back in his high-backed chair, his features cast in sharp relief by the basin's glow.
He tapped a rhythm on the armrest, his eyes fixed on the surface of the mercury. With a wave of his hand, the liquid began to swirl, forming the jagged, aristocratic features of Lord Harren.
"Your Highness," Harren's voice crackled through the ether, distorted by the distance between the capital and the desolate fringes of Veth.
The Lord of Veth looked weary; the bags under his eyes were deep, and his usually pristine silken robes were rumpled. "I assume the silence from Veth means the deed is done?"
