At the end of the road stood a pair of bronze doors. Kali pushed one open, expecting to feel the weight of it in her shoulder. Instead, it swung inward so easily that she nearly struck the wall with it.
She looked down at her hand. The swollen joints were gone, and a strand of sovereign silk slipped between her fingers with a simple thought, fine enough to escape the eye and strong enough to have torn those doors off their hinges.
That brought a smile to her lips. She had missed her strength greatly.
"Kneel."
The smile on her face faded as she surveyed her surroundings.
Nine thrones occupied the far end of a vast imperial hall. Each stood upon its own dais, with a flight of shallow steps descending to the same expanse of polished marble. The man who had spoken sat upon a throne of iron. There were several dents in his crown, including one deep enough to have left a corresponding scar across his brow.
