"The moon is dazzling..."
The palace stood as an obsidian monolith against the eternal twilight, its towering spires clawing at the storm-laden skies.
Strange, luminous runes pulsed faintly upon its darkened walls, a language long forgotten by the common realms.
The air was thick with unseen power, as though the structure itself breathed, alive with the whispers of those who had fallen to serve in silence.
Within the grand hall, three figures kneeled upon the cold marble, their black uniforms blending into the shadows that curled around them like living tendrils.
Each bore the insignia of the lotus, a mark seared into their flesh upon initiation, a symbol of unwavering loyalty to a master unseen.
Before them, at the farthest end of the chamber, stood their leader. His silhouette was tall, imposing, wrapped in flowing dark robes embroidered with threads of silver and crimson.
