The Royal Court of the Naga Clan was a vast, spiraling chamber carved from the bones of ancient sea titans and encrusted with glowing pearl moss. Above, a massive conch-shaped dome pulsed faint blue light, resonating gently with the tides of the world. Here, time slowed — and words spoken carried the weight of fate.
Seated in a semi-circle were twelve elders, each cloaked in coral-stitched robes, with a trident sigil shining across their chests. Among them was the Great Elder of War, the Mist Elder of Tidecraft, and the Shellbound Oracle, whose eyes were perpetually closed, lips murmuring fate like ripples.
At the center, seated atop a raised throne that looked carved from a sleeping sea dragon's back, was the Patriarch of the Naga Clan — a towering, scaled figure with azure horns and flowing white hair. His eyes were old. Too old. They'd seen eras collapse and empires drown.
Before them stood Second Princess Nyara, her voice calm but determined.
