The Rooted Throne

Minerva stood before the Matriarch of Moorehaven, head bowed, red eyed after fully describing what had happened and how Hammords Reach had fallen.

"The Shadow Lord allows you access to his lands." Croaked the Matriarch with her gravelled voice.

It was a statement. Not a question, just a statement. The Matriarch sat on the throne chair, carved from the remains of an ancient oak; it's roots still fixing it to the ground. The chamber had been built around it.

"I find that most disturbing of all. No-one has had such access for over three thousand years! If not more."