Chapter 152: Morvain
At the highest point of the Hollowshade, above the tangled pillars and glowing caverns, there was a room few ever entered, a vast chamber of dark stone carved into the ceiling of the hollow itself.
Its floor was polished obsidian, and towering black drapes lined the walls like funeral banners.
In the center of the room stood Omen.
He wore a long black coat, buttoned to the neck, stitched with dark ornaments that shimmered faintly like onyx. His clothes were royal. The weight of nobility clung to him not with pride, but with judgment.
His skin was pale against his long black hair, which spilled over his shoulders like wet ink. Heavy black eyes, half-lidded and unwavering, scanned the floor below him.
Eight figures knelt before him, heads bowed. All of them had black hair tied down and dusted with dirt and blood. Their clothes were torn. Their bodies trembled in silence.
Beside them stood Geroe, a thick-armed guard with a coarse beard and a deep, sand-worn voice.
"These are the newcomers," Geroe said, bowing. "They also match the description of a whisper you gave us."
Omen didn’t move.
He stared down at the row of bodies like they were stones in a riverbed.
"...Look up," he said quietly.