Battle Of The Holy Thrones.

As Damien and Sara moved past the grand arrival hall, a pair of assistant mages in black and silver robes approached them.

"You'll be shown to your quarters now," one of them said—a young man with delicate features and a voice smooth as flowing ink. His eyes lingered on Damien a little longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering in them before he turned and began walking.

They followed him through a side corridor, where the architecture shifted subtly with each step. The gleaming white marble gave way to obsidian tiles inlaid with starlight, as though they were walking across a night sky. Light filtered in through curved windows framed in gold and glass, casting long, soft shadows on the corridor walls. Every footstep echoed gently, muted by some unseen enchantment.