The approaches to the Senate of Skulls were lined with the stone-hard bones of ancient heralds. It stood at attention in niches carved thirty feet up the dark rock walls.
Ren Vale walked in silence down the center of the southern gallery, his boots moving with measured, careful deliberation. His left arm remained bound in Artificer Ren’s horn-and-resin splints. But his right hand held his mammoth ivory awl with the relaxed, easy familiarity of a master scribe about to sign a closing lease.
Tucked beneath his braced arm was the leather dispatch case containing the Precursor Debt-Tablet rubbings. Forty approved folio sheets of beaten star-iron graphite transfers, co-signed by Vane Vale’s mercantile audit and stamped with the Bone Notary’s osteo-ink seal.
Beside him walked Mira. She wore no shawl now. Her wool tunic was buttoned to the throat. Her smoky quartz right arm was held openly at her side. It glowed with a soft, steady violet soft glow that pushed back the choking darkness of the gallery.
They moved down the southern gallery. Then, Lord Ren stepped up beside Ren, his heavy iron broadsword resting easily in the crook of his elbow. The Ash Emperor’s scarred face was unreadable. But his cold, hungry eyes surveyed the high vantage points of the hall with veteran tactical care.
