Amber light bathed the ancient chamber as acolytes of the Icarus cult arranged ceremonial implements with methodical precision. Thirteen braziers formed a perfect circle, their flames burning without flicker despite the air currents that whispered through hidden vents. At the center, upon a raised obsidian platform, Klaus Lionhart lay motionless, his silver hair spread around him like a halo.
High Priest Valen stood at the platform's edge, ceremonial robes rustling as he traced complex symbols in the air above Klaus's unconscious form. The Mark of Icarus on his forehead pulsed with amber light, synchronized to a rhythm only he could hear.
"Begin the first purification," he commanded, voice resonating through the chamber's perfect acoustics.
