The throne room, a cavernous chamber of obsidian and flickering flames, echoed with the low growl of King Balthor. Elysir, his long silver hair cascading down his broad shoulders, stood before him. Four piercing blue eyes, glowing with an eerie light, scanned the room. His horns, long and sharp as obsidian daggers, scraped against the throne's edge as he shifted impatiently."You have one more duty, boy," Balthor boomed, his voice a thunderous rumble that shook the very foundations of the throne. "Wipe that smirk off your face."