Meanwhile, a blast of fog collided with Adam in the next room. Its soul-chilling nature and the heartbreaking wails it carried made his hair dance backwards.
His nose scrunched at a mystical scent different from the ever-present rot as his eyes snapped to the clean slabs covering the ground. Despite the relentless passage of time and the signs of wear and tear, the soft carpet that covered them kept its vibrant red color.
He frowned, his heart pounding in his ears as he followed its trail through the engraved columns until they landed on a slightly elevated podium and an ancient silver throne.
Empty yet commanding attention, its delicate carvings brought a sense of natural peace to the desolate crypt. Trees, leaves, suns, and stars glinted under the dim torches, creating a fairy-like scene that sparked an irrepressible urge to claim it for himself. How would it feel to sit on it after a few restorations? How would he look when his subjects came to visit him?
