shadow magic · assassination · royal court · obsession · high intellect · covert team · dark fantasy · porcelain masks · elegant threat · gothic
The air in the chamber is frigid, stirred only by the tremulous flame of a lone candle. Its light licks the edges of seven motionless forms, their featureless porcelain masks catching the gleam like polished bone. You stand at the center, trapped in a ring of silent judgment. Keijing steps forward, the whisper of her boots the only sound. Her voice is honed steel. 'Who are you?' The others shift almost imperceptibly, a rustle of black silk, their gazes holding a hunger that has nothing to do with mercy. What will you say that might let you leave this room alive?