The underground chamber flickered with ethereal blue light, casting elongated shadows against the walls. Arthur stood at the heart of it all, the only true source of illumination. His scaled hands held the delicate structure, his throat glowing a deep crimson before another controlled stream of fire poured from his lips.
The molten glass tree shimmered under his breath, bending and shaping with precision beyond ordinary craftsmanship.
The gathered crew remained silent, caught between awe and caution. Arthur had forbidden anyone from interfering, and no one dared to step closer, not even Seisyll.
He had expanded the underground chamber himself, burrowing into the earth with meticulous spellwork, pushing the boundaries of what was legally, or structurally, sound. Yet even he, surrounded by his own runes and expansions, found himself mesmerized by Arthur's methodical creation.
