Raven followed Durnehra in silence, his boots echoing faintly across stone older than dynasties.
The tunnel narrowed and then opened into a circular, domed chamber carved directly into the mountain's marrow.
A hush lived here, not from emptiness, but reverence.
The only light came from veins of crystal webbed across the ceiling, pulsing with a slow, organic rhythm—as if the stone itself were breathing.
"She will be here in a moment. Don't say anything unnecessary," Durnehra whispered. Raven nodded.
At the far end of the chamber, a colossal relief rose from the wall. Dorrak-Thul, the god of Earth, carved into the stone like a half-woken dream.
His features were unreadable, eyes carved deeper than shadow, watching without sight. There was an artistry to the sculpture that chilled Raven more than it impressed.
The longer he stared, the more the proportions felt... wrong. Not flawed, but alien.
