The room was shrouded in thick gloom, barely lit by torches dancing in a non-existent wind. The rough stone walls absorbed the echo of each footstep, and the heavy air of the underground seemed to breathe alongside the three leaders who had arrived.
Seated at a circular ebony table, the three survivors of the Purgatory dome kept an uncomfortable silence. Each occupied their usual place, but the absence of two empty chairs was more noticeable than ever.
One belonged to Lortad, fallen just a few moons ago; the other, to the recently captured leader, whose name was safest not to mention out loud. With each loss, the power they once held began to falter.
The Leader in Red slammed his clenched fist on the table, letting out a growl filled with frustration. His scarlet cape fluttered slightly with the movement as if sharing their fury.
