The stone hall was drowning in a heavy silence, broken only by the faint flicker of black torches mounted on the walls, their flames dancing on stones tainted with the smell of mold and ash. The light was dim, not illuminating but rather choking. In that moment, the great door opened with weight, its creak slicing through the skin of the place.
Ethan entered.
His steps were quiet, confident, but carried a hidden weight... no sign of joy, nor arrogance.
At the end of the hall, Vine sat on a simple throne, if it could be called that. It was made of old bones and black metal, as if it had been assembled from corpses. His eyes settled on Ethan as he walked in. On either side of him stood statues.
"I knew you would succeed... but not this quickly."
Ethan didn't respond immediately. He stopped a few steps away, then bowed slightly, without lowering his eyes.
"The opportunity was there. I don't waste opportunities."
