The subterranean amphitheater trembled as though the very roots of Mount Solis were being torn from the earth. High atop the three-tiered obsidian dais, the Master Altar of the Sun had become a swirling vortex of apocalyptic necrotic energy. The thirty jagged shards of dark star-ruby—the shattered remnants of King Kaelen's Collar of Thorns that had held the northern monarch in agony for twenty winters—pulsed with radioactive crimson-purple fire. Through…
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