Not long after the Ordo Ferox vanished from the battlefield.
A faint ripple of energy drifted through the air—ethereal, formless—sliding quietly into a grand and opulent chamber. The air inside seemed lifeless. Cold. Damp. Trembling faintly under an unseen resonance that hummed through the silence.
The ceiling rose high like a stone cathedral, carved with faintly glowing patterns of gold and azure—circles and sigils pulsing as though alive.
Silver-black pillars reached upward, supporting a vast crystalline dome. Along the walls, streams of light flowed slowly, like rivers of time, dripping fragments of energy that formed a thin, shimmering mist.
It felt like a palace, yet not one belonging to the human world.
It was more akin to a throne beneath the earth—a place where time and life pulsed to a rhythm entirely different from the surface.
At the center stood a majestic bed carved from pure white jade, veiled by translucent curtains that rippled softly though no wind stirred.
