The Grand Hall had been built to inspire awe.
Vaulted ceilings stretched fifty feet overhead, supported by columns carved from single pieces of volcanic stone.
Each column told stories in relief—demons rising from primordial darkness, wars fought against impossible odds, victories earned through blood and sacrifice.
The floor was polished obsidian, reflecting torchlight like a black mirror.
At the far end, elevated on a dais, sat two thrones: one of shadow and silver for the Queen, one of black stone and crimson accents—newly constructed—for the Primordial.
Liam stood beside his throne but didn't sit.
Lilith remained standing as well, her golden eyes surveying the assembled powers with the calculating gaze of someone who'd spent ten years learning exactly how dangerous these demons were.
The Nine House leaders occupied the front row of the assembled forces, each positioned with deliberate spacing that suggested political distance despite physical proximity.
