The High Sanctum of the Promise was a safe hall built to outlast the stars.
The floating dais of black glass hung suspended in the center of the underground deep pit, held motionless by four huge arches of giant stone that curved upward from the deep gap floor like the ribs of a sleeping titan. Here, sixty feet beneath the vaulted ceiling and eighty feet above the flooded sump, the air was utterly dead. There were no drafts, no moisture, and no sound save for the ragged breathing of the sneaking cell.
In the center of the dais, bathed in the amber glow of three bronze fire bowls filled with glowing willow charcoal, stood a massive reading desk carved from a single block of fiery dark rock, shaped in the likeness of an open folio.
Upon that stone desk lay the heart of the empire.
It was the true, main Founding Promise of Val-Khorat, ratified in the winter of 388 AUC.
Ren Prime climbed the final three steps of the dais, his boots crunching softly on the white foam-stone dust that Graves had left behind in his hurried flight. Brother Ren walked close at his right shoulder. He held a clean linen towel to Ren Prime’s freshly bandaged palms. Meanwhile, Unit Ren took up a sentry position at the head of the bridge, his brass sight iris scanning the dark arches.
