Rise of the Shadow Lords

And each time those embers found their way back to Lord Lorian, who sat at the head of the hall like a statue—unreadable, patient, measuring. Lord Lorian moved at the head of the procession—stone-faced, unbent, iron to the bone. Each word hit like a chisel splitting stone. “Buried where even her shadows cannot crawl back into this world.” But the words didn’t sound like the truth. This is where everything changes, Lazarus,” the voices breathed, their tone both promise and curse. “For him.