The darkness inside the palace seemed to have weight, pressing against them as Leon and Seraphine moved forward with deliberate caution. Their footsteps echoed in the vast entrance hall, the sound bouncing off walls they could barely make out in the gloom. As their eyes adjusted, details emerged from the shadows – and with them, more questions than answers.

More statues lined the interior hallways, but these were different from the ones outside. Where the courtyard statues had stood in grand, ceremonial poses, these figures were frozen in moments of daily life. A servant carried an invisible tray down a corridor that would never end. A scribe sat at a stone desk, quill raised as if about to write words that would never flow. Guards stood at their posts with expressions of bored vigilance, unaware they would maintain that watch for eternity.

The strange symbols were here too, covering every statue with the same incomprehensible patterns. In the dim light filtering through stained glass windows, the markings seemed to writhe more actively than they had outside, creating an unsettling illusion of movement in Leon's peripheral vision.

"This entire palace," Seraphine whispered, her voice barely disturbing the oppressive silence, "everyone who lived and worked here... they're all stone."

Leon nodded grimly, his spatial awareness expanding outward like an invisible web, searching for any sign of life, any movement, any threat. But there was nothing – just stone figures and empty rooms, as if the palace had been frozen at a single moment in time. Even the dust seemed minimal, as if time itself moved differently here.

They traversed corridor after corridor, following the primary pathway that seemed designed to lead visitors deeper into the palace's heart. Each room they passed told the same story – perfectly preserved spaces filled with stone people frozen mid-action. A kitchen where cooks stood before cold stoves, their stone hands holding implements for meals that would never be prepared. A library where scholars sat with books open before them, stone eyes forever scanning pages they could no longer read.

The abyssal smell grew stronger as they moved deeper, though it remained faint enough that Seraphine still couldn't detect it. Leon's heart continued its accelerated rhythm, his body maintaining a state of heightened alertness that was beginning to wear on him. Every instinct screamed that danger lurked here, yet his spatial awareness – usually so reliable in detecting threats – revealed nothing beyond the statues.

The path they followed was clearly intentional, designed to funnel visitors along a specific route. Doors that might have led to alternate passages were blocked by strategically placed statues, their stone bodies creating barriers that would be difficult to bypass without destroying them – something Leon was reluctant to do without understanding what they truly were.

"The throne room should be ahead," Seraphine said, recognizing the architectural patterns of palace design. The hallway they traveled had widened, the ceiling rising to cathedral heights. Mysteries hung on the walls, their rich fabrics somehow preserved despite what must have been years of abandonment. Or perhaps not abandoned – possibly watched over by the stone sentinels who could no longer appreciate the artistry they guarded.

Massive double doors loomed before them, carved from the same black wood as the main entrance but even more elaborate. Gold and silver inlays formed complex patterns that complement the symbols on the statues. However, they were different enough that Leon couldn't determine if they were related. The doors stood slightly ajar, another invitation that felt too convenient to be anything but intentional.

Leon pushed the doors open with careful pressure, ready to leap back at the first sign of danger. They swung inward on silent hinges, revealing the throne room beyond.

It was empty.

The vast space stretched before them, pillars of white marble reaching toward a vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of triumph and glory. Windows of colored glass cast rainbow light across the polished floor, creating an almost divine atmosphere. At the far end, elevated on a dais of three steps, sat an ornate throne carved from what appeared to be a single block of black stone shot through with veins of silver.

But the throne was unoccupied, and Leon's spatial awareness detected nothing – no life, no movement, no presence beyond their own. Even the ever-present statues were absent here, leaving the throne room feeling even more empty by comparison.

They moved forward cautiously, their footsteps echoing in the vast space. Leon's senses remained on high alert, searching for any trap, any hidden danger, any explanation for the crawling sensation that told him they were not alone despite all evidence to the contrary.

They had reached the center of the throne room when it happened.

"How fascinating. Visitors who actually made it this far."

The voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once, a feminine sound that carried notes of amusement and something darker. Leon spun, his body tensing for combat, but his spatial awareness still detected nothing. The impossibility of it sent a spike of genuine alarm through him – he could sense motes of dust in the air, feel the subtle air currents from their movement, but whoever had spoken remained entirely invisible for his supernatural perception.

Which felt impossible to him.

Seraphine had her weapon half-drawn, her eyes scanning the apparently empty room with professional wariness. "Show yourself," she commanded, though her voice carried less authority than usual.

A laugh, soft and genuinely amused. "Such demanding guests. Very well."

Movement behind the throne caught their attention. A figure stepped out from behind the massive chair – though how she had been concealed there when the space had appeared empty moments before was a mystery that made Leon's skin crawl. His spatial awareness should have alerted him to her presence. The fact that it hadn't suggested either a level of concealment beyond anything he'd encountered, or something about her nature that defied normal perception.

The woman who emerged was striking in her appearance. Black hair fell in waves past her shoulders, so dark it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Her eyes matched her hair – deep, endless black that held depths Leon couldn't fathom. She appeared no older than thirty, her face carrying a beauty that was both alluring and unsettling, as if perfection itself could be a warning.

She wore a gown of midnight blue that seemed to shift and flow with her movements, the fabric appearing almost liquid in the rainbow light from the windows. No crown adorned her head, no visible symbols of rank, yet she moved with the absolute confidence of someone who had never been challenged.

With casual grace, she walked around the throne and settled into it, her movements fluid and deliberate. Only when she was seated did she fix her gaze on them – first on Seraphine. This cursory glance dismissed her as inconsequential, then on Leon, where her attention lingered with an almost physical intensity.

"Now then," she said, her voice carrying easily across the throne room despite speaking at conversational volume. "Who are you, and why have you come here? You're clearly not from around here – the very air around you speaks of distant places and..." her black eyes narrowed slightly as she studied Leon, "unusual circumstances."

Leon met her gaze steadily, though his mind raced internally. She had evaded his spatial awareness completely, appeared from nowhere, and now sat on the throne with such casual authority that she might have been born to it. Yet there was no crown, no regalia, nothing to indicate she was the queen or even nobility.

"We might ask you the same question," Leon replied, his voice calm despite his heightened alertness. "This palace appears to have suffered an unusual... incident. Yet you seem unaffected."

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