Faint traces of a very dark energy still lingered among the runes, and the pure and elegant energy too despite the suffering woven through them. The residues of both clung to the stone in delicate currents, resembling the final notes of a beautiful song forced from a throat already raw from screaming.
Beneath that purity lay the harsher imprint of imprisonment, drained power and suppression of the full potential of their bloodline and race, and souls compelled to serve as doors.
The other dark one she sensed was the Void.
Its residue remained throughout the chamber, thin but unmistakable.
Space around the altar had not entirely recovered from whatever had crossed through it. Distances remained subtly dishonest. One section of black stone appeared farther away than it truly was, while another seemed close enough to touch despite lying on the opposite side of the hall.
