This palace was gigantic, greater than any structure he had seen except the Arena, and Vyraak expected that he would be hearing a multitude of noise being this close to it, but a greater part of the palace was covered in fog, leaving only the gate visible, and what was most noticeable was the silence.
A silence so deep that the Dragon God could hear his heartbeat, and the sound of it felt like a vulgar intrusion in this place of silence. Vyraak knew that what he was feeling was the sensation of being out of your depth. This was not a place for a lesser immortal like him.
However, there was no way he was turning back. The corruption in his core had become an itch so great that it was driving him to madness, and he needed to resolve it.
The shimmering black gate of liquid chronology beckoned him like a moth to a flame, and Vyraak's legs were almost moving without his intent. There were promises of answers here, and if not answers, then an end to a life of shame.
