The tunnel opened into a cavern so vast its ceiling was lost in the gloom. In the center, illuminated by a single shaft of natural light filtering down from a crack in the mountain hundreds of feet above, stood a stone pedestal.
Resting on it was the Golden Skull.
It wasn't a metaphor. It was a literal human skull, dipped in gold, grinning macabrely at them.
"Tacky," Elian whispered. "The Mad King really had an aesthetic."
"It is the symbol of the conquest over death," Cassian said, stepping into the arena. "Focus. The Guardian is here."
The floor of the arena was littered with bones. Some were old and yellow. Some were fresh and white.
CRASH.
Behind them, Sir Kael stumbled out of the tunnel. He was a mess. His armor was dented, his cape was shredded, and he was limping heavily on his left leg, which was bleeding through the greaves.
"You!" Kael roared, pointing his sword at Cassian. "You fed me to the eels!"
