With Ysvara finishing speaking, the group just stood around, looking at the magnificent Throne before them that unleashed that weird aura. All of them felt themselves drawn towards the Throne's shadow like moths to a flame, fascinated, but still cautious.
The massive black seat loomed at the heart of the hall, towering and silent, carved from a single shard of crystallized void. Its surface seemed fluid at times, faint ripples of darkness spreading like water whenever someone breathed too near.
The Throne was clearly not an object, but instead alive in the form of a coalesced ancient consciousness of various Ancient Demon Kings from various prior eras.
None of the students dared speak for a while. The hum of mana filled the chamber, an endless, low vibration that crawled up their bones and coiled in their skulls. The runes etched along the walls pulsed like a heartbeat, faint, rhythmic, unrelenting.
