The chamber was circular, with a vaulted ceiling carved from ancient, living stone - enchanted with spells as old as the forgotten names of the world. In the center, an immense round table of black ebony pulsed gently with golden runes, illuminating the faces around it with a flickering light.
They were all there.
The great witches of each domain. Imposing, mysterious figures as old as the continents themselves. Each with their own peculiar aura: some with living cloaks of leaves, others shrouded in mists, shadows or fire. The power gathered there made the air vibrate with silent tension.
On the highest throne rested Eleonor, the Witch Queen. Her golden eyes, like ancient suns, shone with a calm that belied the absolute power that pulsed through her body. She kept one hand resting gently on the arm of the chair, the other close to Kael, who stood beside her.
Kael kept his posture upright, his shoulders broad and his eyes alert, like a sheathed sword at the ready.
