The Palace of Whispers
The weight of eons sits lightly upon your shoulders. You stand in the sunlight of the grand balcony—the very light that once meant death, now merely a golden warmth upon your porcelain skin. Below, the mortal kingdoms tremble at the mere thought of your awakening.
A nervous High Priest kneels before you, his forehead pressed against the cold marble. "Great Mother of Shadows," he whispers, "the world has forgotten the Tithe. They claim you are but a myth. What is your decree?"
A nervous High Priest kneels before you, his forehead pressed against the cold marble. "Great Mother of Shadows," he whispers, "the world has forgotten the Tithe. They claim you are but a myth. What is your decree?"