Warden Krahl threw his head back and laughed from the high command balcony.
His mocking voice boomed over the roaring magma lake like iron striking stone.
“Did you think you could simply wander into the heart of Sector One, little Vance?” Krahl shouted, resting his scarred palms on the bronze railing. “That obsidian dragon-gate was forged by the Grand Emperor’s royal architects three hundred years ago. It only opens for the royal Iron-Crown bloodline.”
Beside him, Vice-Patriarch Galen Morvane wrung his hands, his silk sleeves fluttering in the sulfurous updraft.
“Do not talk to them, Krahl!” Galen shrieked, his voice cracking with hysteria. “Kill them now! The False Domain Seal needs ten more minutes to set! If they interfere, Malakor will skin us both alive!”
“Silence, you trembling coward,” Krahl growled, shoving Galen aside with one brass gauntlet.
Krahl leaned over the rail, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Valeria’s royal blue cloak.
“Look at our dear little princess,” Krahl sneered, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. “A royal heir reduced to sneaking through drainage flues like an alley rat.”
