The chamber was lit by a thousand flickering flames, each dancing atop iron sconces forged in the shape of crowned skulls. This was the Hall of Concord neutral territory carved deep beneath the Bloodridge Mountains, far from the reach of any kingdom. Only summoned in times of impending collapse, the Crimson Summit had not been convened in over two centuries. The last time, a thousand kingdoms died.
Cambria stood at the center of the obsidian floor, her crown gleaming beneath the firelight. Her cloak of sable feathers dragged behind her, whispering of storms. Beside her, Lucien Vale stood like a ghost returned from the grave, draped in silver war armor carved with the Blackwood sigil. Evelyn flanked her opposite side, unnervingly composed, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of her blade.
All around them, power gathered.
