As you pierce the inky darkness that hangs jealously over the gaping hole leading to the foyer, your eyes take in what you realise to be Molochai's final resting place. Blackened drapes hang like shrouds from the walls and ceiling, and small insects lazily weave their way amongst the floating specks of dust; caught in a silvery beam of moonlight that stabs down from the central skylight. A large fireplace is nestled into the far wall, crackling and popping as it consumes the birch logs it has been fed, sending flickering shadows and a sweet perfume throughout the room. A small pile of birch wood sits next to the fire, should it ever look like dying down. A plump, black cushion lies before the hearth. An ancient pair of easy chairs sit on top of a huge rug - dyed a deep crimson to hide any stains - lying in approximately the centre of the room. They have been covered for centuries by faded, white dust protectors, and appear from the corner of your eye to be a pair of hollow spirits with arms outstretched, guarding Molochai's haven. Between them stands a diminuative, hand-carved table of ebony and silver. Upon it rests a candelabrum, clasping several black candles; their dark wax radiating a strange heat.
BlackMyst and Sebastian are here.
Molochai is here. Exits: