Chapter 11: Throne of Kalverk

An imposing figure sat upon a majestic throne. The room was vast and empty, with stone walls draped in dark banners that depicted scenes of conquest and prophecies. The flickering torchlight cast shifting shadows, amplifying the room's palpable tension and anticipation.

The figure was draped in elaborate black robes that flowed like liquid night, the fabric adorned with intricate gold embroidery that shimmered faintly in the dim light. The robe's high collar and wide sleeves encrusted with emblems and runes.

His face was almost entirely obscured by a sweeping black veil that cascaded from his crown, its fabric light and ethereal, shifting with every subtle movement. His eyes, however, were a striking feature: hollow sockets glowed with a deep, unsettling red fire, casting an eerie luminescence.

The crown upon his head was a masterwork of dark metal, intricately forged with swirling patterns and inlaid with blood-red gems that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. A row of red roses, their petals seemingly carved from hearts, adorned the crown.

His lower body was clad in a long, flowing black skirt, its hem trimmed with gold thread that caught the light with each movement. The skirt fell gracefully to the floor, revealing a pair of high-heeled boots crafted from supple black leather. The boots were adorned with gold accents and intricate buckles.

His arms, extending from the robes' wide sleeves, were adorned with several transparent shawls. These shawls were delicate, shimmering with an otherworldly light as they fluttered gently whilst he tapped his fingers along the armrest on the throne.

The figure's long, pointed ears, were subtly visible beneath the veil. The crown, while concealing his deep black horns, hinted at their presence through the gentle curve of the metal. His presence was a blend of shadow and light.

The silence of the room was disrupted by the entrance of a human woman. She was dressed in pure white, which stood out starkly against the dark surroundings. Her green eyes were intense and focused, her blonde hair neatly tied back. Her cape, adorned with a golden emblem depicting an Angel wreathed in flames, flowed behind her. In the front, an apron with "medic" embroidered on it with stains of faded red.

She approached the throne with a respectful bow, her cape spreading out like wings. "My lord," she began, her voice steady but soft and gentle, "may I have permission to speak?"

The figure on the throne inclined his head as his long black hair flowed forward with him. His deep, resonant voice reverberated through the chamber. "Speak."

Rising from her bow, the medic looked up, her face etched with concern. "My lord, we have not heard from the ritual team. The last communication from our scouts indicated they had located the tomb, but... we have lost contact."

The figure's eyes flared with a deeper red fire as his brows furrowed, "And what of the scouts? Have they returned?"

The medic shook her head, her expression troubled. "No, my lord. Additional scouts sent to re-establish contact have also failed to report back."

Leaning back on his throne, the figure's fingers, adorned with sharp claws hidden beneath the flowing sleeves, drummed thoughtfully on the armrest. "Interesting," he mused, his voice carrying an undertone of grim satisfaction. "This is not entirely unexpected. The tomb is a place of great power. It was never going to be easy..."

The figure rose from the throne, casting a long shadow over the room. "Prepare a team to investigate."

He takes a deep breath, "I will lead them myself if necessary. The prophecy must be fulfilled."

The medic bowed again, relief evident in her eyes. "As you command, my lord. I will make the necessary arrangements immediately."

As she turned to leave, she hesitated and spoke once more. "Lord Kalverk?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Calmly, the figure spoke, "Yes?"

"What if... The Angel... Was Summoned...," she said, her voice trailing off with a bit of sorrow in her voice, "And Attacked?..."

Kalverk's gaze was steel, his expression unwavering. "If the Angel has been summoned and attacked the summoners," he said, his voice cold and measured, "then it is a test of our resolve. We will not falter. We will reinforce our forces, adapt to any challenges, and ensure that the prophecy unfolds as destined. Failure is not an option."

The medic's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of awe and apprehension in her gaze. She nodded solemnly, acknowledging the gravity of his words. "Understood, my lord. I will see to the preparations at once."

Kalverk's eyes flickered with a faint, menacing light as he watched her depart. As the door closed behind her, he sat back down on his throne. The room seemed to grow colder in her absence...

Kalverk's fingers drummed rhythmically on the armrest of the throne. His thoughts turned inward, contemplating his next move. However, the ancient prophecy was clear, and he would see it fulfilled.

A dark smile played at the corners of his lips as he rose from the throne, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the chamber. He turned to a nearby table where a series of maps and arcane symbols were laid out, illuminated by the dim torchlight.

He began to study the maps, tracing his fingers over the marked locations with calculated precision. Kalverk carefully picked up a quilt from a stand and gently dipped it in a small pot of red ink. He hovered the quill over the pot before circling a certain spot in a forest next to a town labeled T'sgitshi.

Kalverk sighed as he dotted the town before placing the quill back on the stand.

Kalverk's eyes narrowed as he contemplated his next move. His hand, adorned with dark, sharp claws, reached up and gently lifted his crown. With a deliberate motion, he carefully pulled a long wire that thickened at the tip, like an antenna, out from beneath the crown. He held the antenna close to his mouth.

"Alexander," he intoned with a calm, resonant voice, "You're being summoned to the throne room."

As he finished speaking, Kalverk carefully replaced the antenna and adjusted his crown, letting it settle back into place. His gaze remained fixed on the maps as he waited patiently.

After a time, the heavy door to the throne room creaked open, and a tall, imposing figure stepped inside. Alexander was dressed in a black suit with a golden pin linked by a chain that held it together. His tie, which is carefully tucked into his overcoat, is a maroon shade of red.

Alexander's short neat hair matched his grey eyes. With this and the wrinkles on his face, a person could tell that he was an older gentleman. You could also see the pupils of his eyes look clouded or faded.

With Alexander's entrance, he respectfully closes his eyes and takes a bow before kneeling before Kalverk.

"Rise, Alexander," Kalverk commanded, his voice carrying a note of authority.

Alexander stood, meeting Kalverk's penetrating gaze. "My lord," he said with a calm, deep, and warm voice.

Kalverk's eyes fixed on Alexander, "Mrs. Kaine is preparing an investigation team to assess the situation at the tomb. While this is usually your expertise, I have another task for you."

Kalverk gestured toward the marked spot on the map, the town labeled T'sgitshi. "I need you to use your specific soul magic to investigate this place. The goal is to see if there are any witnesses."

Alexander nodded, a determined look in his eyes. "It will be done, m'lord."

While a glint of satisfaction flickered in Kalverk's eyes, he subtly smirked. "Good. You know our goal. I know you won't disappoint."

With a final bow, Alexander turned and left the throne room. Kalverk's gaze followed him. As the door closed behind Alexander, Kalverk returned to the quill as he pulled some more parchment to the desk.

The flickering torchlight danced on the walls, making thousands of patterns of shadows from the shape of the crown.