The Obsidian Spire did not rise from the earth so much as it pierced it like a jagged, poisoned needle. As the Golden Guard led the remnants of the Trinity toward the Southern capital, the sky grew darker, choked by the perpetual soot of the alchemical forges. But the palace itself—the seat of the Grand Duke Thorne—was a masterpiece of cruel opulence. It was a fortress of white marble stained by streaks of gold, surrounded by gardens where the flowers were made of glass and the fountains ran with scented oils instead of water.
Gwen was not carried in a litter; she was placed in a gilded cage on wheels, a "diplomatic carriage" that felt more like a mobile cell. Kaelen and Lucien were forced to walk beside it, their weapons confiscated, their hands bound by "Null-Chain" shackles that suppressed their mana and their primal strength.
