The throne room wasn't like most people would have imagined. While it was grand, there were no golden or silver decorations placed around to make the place look impressive.
What would have captured anyone's attention, however, were the tree roots growing all around the room—the ceiling, the walls, the floor. Wherever one looked, they would see dozens of tree roots, black in color, pulsing with strange energy.
Sadly, Rynor didn't have time to appreciate the eerie beauty of the tree and its roots as his eyesight naturally shifted to his father.
Unlike the rumours, he wasn't a man with a giant build—a person capable of feeding off armies alone—nor was he secretly a demon like so many speculated.
He looked like just any old frail man. His face and body were pale, similar to a ghost, with a lot of wrinkles all around it. He wore simple, tainted black robes that he refused to let go of.
