[Silthara Palace—Throne Hall—Morning of Reckoning]
The throne hall was silent.
Not quiet, not still.
Silent—the kind of silence that comes when prey knows a predator is near.
Every noble house head knelt on the gleaming obsidian floor. Their foreheads touched the stone; their breaths were trapped in their throats. Even the torch flames dared not flicker too loudly.
Because the great golden doors burst open—BOOM.
The obsidian doors of the throne hall groaned open—slow, heavy, as if the palace itself feared to usher him in.
And the Serpent Emperor walked in.
Zeramet did not disguise his fury.
His aura poured across the hall in crushing waves—cold, venomous, ancient. It clung to the air like storm smoke. Shadows bent as he passed, torches dimmed as if refusing to challenge his presence. Serpent carvings etched along the pillars rattled—scales vibrating with instinctive submission.
He wore no imperial cloak today.
