PREVIEW

... — a realm not recorded in books, nor acknowledged by history.

Because those who remembered it... never lived long enough to tell the tale.

Its entrance appeared as a spiraling tear in the sky, a black maw that hung above a crumbling opera house floating in void. Its red curtains fluttered though there was no wind. The chandeliers swayed with unseen weight, and music — soft, melancholic, broken — played without source.

Elias stood before it, cloaked in black and fire.

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