Cresty was waiting in the same room, familiar to her by now. Darkness surrounded the chamber, but it was dim enough for her eyes to make out the shapes of things and tell where everything was. The quiet atmosphere was occasionally broken by the faint sound of her breathing and the soft movement of the cup in her hand.
She took another sip of water, letting the coolness settle in her throat before her eyes slowly glanced upward.
There he was.
The hooded, masked man sat upon the throne across the room. Unlike an ordinary throne, however, this one was designed to glide across the floor, allowing its occupant to move without ever needing to stand. Even in the darkness, its silhouette was unmistakable.
Cresty lowered her cup slightly.
Her eyes remained fixed on him.
She had been in this room enough times to know that the darkness was intentional. Nothing here was meant to be seen clearly. Not the walls, not the floor, and certainly not the person sitting on the throne.
