Thirteen thrones arranged in a circle.
Eight of those thrones were occupied.
Five remained empty.
The weight of those absences pressed down on everyone present, tangible reminder of how quickly everything had changed.
Lord Erebus Drakenfell sat in the largest throne, carved entirely from blackened bone, its armrests ending in skeletal hands. He appearance frozen in his mid-forties.
Pale skin like polished marble. Hair so black it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Eyes the color of dying stars. His features were sharp, aristocratic.
He wore robes of deepest midnight trimmed with silver thread.
To his right, Lady Valeria Bloodmoon sat rigid in a throne of crystallized blood. She looked perhaps thirty, with crimson hair that moved like liquid even when perfectly still, and eyes that shifted between shades of red depending on her mood, currently burning like fresh arterial spray.
