Mind Over Magic

The hallway that led to the old throne hall hadn't changed.

Alaric remembered walking it as a boy—back then, trying not to drag his feet too loud, afraid of what would happen if he made noise.

Now, he walked with steady steps.

Each one heavier than the last, but not from fear.

Just old memory.

The torches lining the walls flickered blue with unnatural flame. Their heat didn't reach the air. The whole corridor felt cold and dry, like the inside of a tomb.

At the end, the massive double doors stood slightly open.

They were always closed when he was young.

This time, they wanted him to come in.

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He pushed the doors open slowly.