The cold sea-brine dripped slowly from the polished toe of Inquisitor Thorne-Crow’s iron boot.
In the dark soul-shrine of the Obsidian Eye, none of the Censorate interrogators dared to breathe.
Thorne-Crow did not wipe the seawater away.
He stood motionless before the shattered altar, staring down at the crystal shards of Malrik’s soul-lantern.
His curved iron claws twitched once against his thigh, emitting a dry, metallic scrape.
The heavy iron doors at the rear of the shrine swung open with a dull clang.
Warden-Elder Moros stepped into the flickering candlelight, leaning heavily on his iron staff.
His sunken eyes took in the shattered glass on the floor, and a grim, bitter shadow settled across his weathered face.
