The cursed paladin strides through the black‑water‑slicked aisle, the spirit‑ember in his gauntlet flaring as the echoing throne looms, its obsidian seat etched with runic‑sigils that pulse like a dying heart. A cold abyssal‑tide seeps from the throne’s cracks, whispering promises of soul‑tithe and drowning the vaulted nave in violet‑smoke and wailing specters.