Before Lucas could process Sylmira's words, the cavern around him began to distort.
A blinding white light erupted from the space beneath his feet. The sensation was unlike any teleportation he had ever experienced—it wasn't a force pulling him away, but rather reality itself unraveling around him.
His vision blurred. His breath hitched.
And then—
Silence.
A deep, consuming silence.
Lucas stumbled forward, his boots making no sound against the ground. No, not ground. He wasn't standing on anything at all. The world around him was void—an endless, empty expanse where neither light nor darkness reigned.
His pulse pounded in his ears.
"Where the hell…?"
Then, he saw them.
Thrones.
Massive, ethereal thrones, each occupied by a figure whose presence alone made the air hum with power. They were seated in a perfect semi-circle, gazing down at him with expressions he could not see—because their faces were obscured, hidden beneath a veil of shifting light and shadow.
