The ruins of the Oakhaven Temple were a skeletal remains of a civilization that had once worshipped the sun, now reduced to crumbling limestone and overgrown, suffocating ivy. It was a place where light went to die, a liminal space between the living world and the void, which made it the perfect, wretched stage for the play Sienna had orchestrated.
Gwen was lashed to a central, decaying pillar, her wrists burning, the skin rubbed raw where the violet shadow-chains had bitten into her. The chains weren't merely binding her; they were pulsing in sync with the Casket, syphoning her life-force, making her feel as though her very essence were being slowly peeled away.
