Hajin opened his eyes to silence.
He was lying on his back, staring up at a ceiling that was not made of stone or wood or anything he recognized, it was something else entirely, smooth and luminous, glowing with a faint golden light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
He sat up slowly, his body feeling strange, not heavy like it had been in the ruins, but light, almost weightless, as if the rules that governed his flesh did not apply in this place.
The room stretched out around him in every direction, vast and empty except for a single long table that sat in the center.
It was massive, carved from something dark and polished that reflected the golden light above, and around it were dozens of high-backed chairs arranged in a neat circle, each one ornate and ancient-looking, the kind of chairs that belonged to people who hold power over the world.
