The vaulted cross-hall lay behind them. Arthur ans the squad moved forward through the echoing dark, their boots heavy against the stone.
They kept a tight formation, disciplined despite the grief still clinging to them. They were tired and beaten down.
Just then the passage bent sharply, narrowing before widening again. The oppressive air of the tomb shifted as they stepped into the next chamber.
This one was smaller, far more intimate than the sprawling hall they were in before,yet its design demanded respect.
At the far end, raised on a platform of carved obsidian, stood seven thrones.
They formed a semicircle, towering yet human-sized, each made from a different shade of stone.
Strange glyphs etched on them with careful detail. At first glance, they seemed to radiate both invitation and warning.
Above the thrones, carved into the wall with precision so sharp it looked new, was an inscription:
"Sit where you belong, or perish."
