The cracked door hadn't opened. But the air changed.
Not with temperature. Not with weight.
With intent.
Merlin stepped back, not in fear. In recognition. Like stepping from the mouth of a cave that had just begun to breathe.
[The Crownless Mother watches.]
[The King Below has turned his gaze.]
[The First Lawkeeper halts mid-stroke.]
From behind the stone-thin pillars, movement. Not footsteps. Gliding. Like silk dragged across bone. No sound. But too heavy to be mistaken for ghosts.
Merlin turned his head.
They stepped into view.
Four of them.
Draped in cloth that didn't catch light, only swallowed it. Robes like smoke. Hands like hunger. Each different, each wrong in a different way.
The first had no mouth.
The second, no eyes.
The third was bent sideways, as if the world had never permitted them to stand straight.
The fourth walked like silence made solid.
Merlin exhaled, quietly.
[Scions of the King Below have arrived.]
The one with no eyes stepped forward.
