THE DARK RITUAL OF KOLGANE
The grand Hall of the Palace of Uralis lay in ruins, its once opulent decor and furnishings long vanished, likely plundered during the aftermath of the war with the Lich King.
Silence had reigned here for ages, broken only by the occasional whisper of wind through shattered windows. But today, the hall pulsed with an ominous energy.
Campfires cast flickering light, revealing hooded figures moving with purpose. They scattered dust across the worn floor, meticulously crafting a pattern of arcane significance.
Soon, blindfolded captives were ushered into the hall, unaware of the horrors that awaited them. In an instant, the air filled with screams as lives were ruthlessly extinguished. Their blood poured out from their bodies, pooling and tracing the lines of the mystic design.
With each sacrifice, the pattern grew brighter, infused with the crimson essence of the dead.
