The darkness lasted exactly one heartbeat.
Then, the heavy black air shattered, and Nathan stepped into a massive, blindingly pale hall. The floor was made of smooth white stone, polished so perfectly it looked like a frozen mirror reflecting their boots. The high walls were lined with massive, hanging tapestries that didn't just hang there—the threads shifted and crawled, moving like living pictures. The ceiling was lost in a thick, grey fog high above.
At the very back of the hall, sitting casually on a throne made of smooth, twisted white bone, was a figure.
It wasn't the Shepherd. Not the real one. Nathan's [Hunter's Insight] told him that immediately. This was just another mask. Another puppet. But it was vastly more powerful than the Emissary they had killed in the ruins. This thing was solid. Real.
