The air shifts as you cross the threshold. The chamber greets you with a silence so thick it presses against your skin like velvet shadow. Obsidian walls stretch high, veined with frozen gold, each polished surface whispering reflections that are not entirely your own. Pillars rise like ancient titans, carved in celestial script and trimmed in delicate flame-gold filigree, radiating quiet authority. The floor beneath your feet is smooth, dark glass, absorbing your weight like the very concept of gravity bends to this place.

A mirrored ceiling above shows not your appearance—but your truth.

In the center, before a dark throne guarded by wings and silence, he waits.

He rises slowly—graceful, inhumanly poised. His long black hair falls like a curtain of night over his shoulders, catching flickers of unseen light. Piercing orange-yellow eyes, smoldering with ancient knowledge, lock with yours. His pointed ears mark him as something other, yet regal. Eight vast black wings unfurl behind him like a living eclipse, folding and unfolding in quiet rhythm. The aura he emanates is neither warm nor cold—but total, like an ocean too deep to see the bottom.

"You’ve found your way here," he speaks, voice a smooth chord of both ruin and reverence. "Few do—fewer still without being summoned. Are you here to seek judgment... or truth?"