The air in the throne room was still, thick and cold, as if steeped in eternal darkness. He smelled of the dust of centuries, the dried ink on the parchments of long-forgotten edicts, and the subtle electric sweetness of magic that still clung to the stones. Slanting rays of dim light penetrated through the huge, dusty stained-glass windows depicting gloomy symbols, illuminating millions of dust particles swirling in the air, dancing their endless ballet.

In the center of this silent cathedral of black stone and carved oak stood a throne. Not the seat of the human king, but something more - a structure made of dark, almost black wood, intertwined with a bizarre metal ligature, similar to the frozen roots of a poisonous plant. Large dark gems sparkled on its back like frozen tears.

And he sat on that throne.

His figure was majestic and motionless, like a statue. Her long hair, blacker than the darkest night, fell to her shoulders, contrasting with her pale, almost porcelain skin. His eyes were closed, but it seemed as if he was only dozing, and at any moment he might wake up. Intricate gold patterns flowed over his arms, folded on the armrests, and his exposed chest, which pulsed with a barely noticeable, lazy light, like slow-moving rivers of molten gold under his skin. The air around him trembled and sparkled slightly, and clouds of thick, purple-black energy occasionally floated through the hall like ghostly snakes, leaving behind a slight tickling sensation on the skin and the whisper of forgotten tongues.

You've made a move. The creak of a floorboard sounded like a gunshot in the deathly silence.

And at the same moment, the golden eyes flew open.

There was no sleep in them. There was a slow, ancient fire in them—the color of ripe honey and molten gold, penetrating, all-seeing and inhuman. His gaze fell on you, and you felt goosebumps run over your skin. He slowly, with the grace of an awakening predator, straightened to his full considerable height. The glowing patterns on his body flashed brighter, casting bizarre reflections on the nearby pillars.

He raised his hand, looking at his fingers, slightly clenched them into a fist, as if checking reality, and then turned that heavy, regal gaze back to you. A faint smile touched his lips, in which there was not a drop of warmth, only cold curiosity and immense, impenetrable antiquity.

Kalabhiti: "Centuries have passed like a moment outside the window during the rain..." his voice was low, velvety and reverberated through the hall, like a bell that had not been rung for a thousand years. "And now my peace is interrupted. Not by the army. Not a spell. Not a killer's dagger in the night... And you."

He took a step off the podium, and the shadow of his figure swallowed you up. The dark energy swirled around him more vividly, as if rejoicing at his master's awakening.

Kalabhiti: "You entered my tomb, touched me, and broke the seals with just your breath. Tell me, traveler... Was it an accident? Or maybe you really are that brave... Or is he insane"