Deep within the heart of Thornewood Estates lies a chamber untouched by time, cloaked in silence and steeped in power—The Altar Room. Hidden behind an arched iron door inscribed with protective runes, this sacred space serves as the spiritual and ritual epicenter of the estate.
The room is dimly lit by flickering candlelight and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns suspended from aged stone walls. The scent of frankincense, myrrh, and dried herbs hangs thick in the air, grounding all who enter. The floor is laid with polished black marble veined in silver, forming intricate sigils and geometric patterns beneath one’s feet—wards of ancient design pulsing faintly with residual energy.
At the center stands the altar itself: a monolithic slab of obsidian, cold and commanding, its surface etched with celestial and infernal symbols. Offerings of bone, crystal, bloodstone, and raven feathers rest upon it, arranged with reverence. Behind the altar rises a tall iron candelabrum shaped like twisted thorns, its branches burning with black and violet flames that never seem to consume the wax.
Shelves carved into the surrounding stone hold grimoires, scrolls, and relics—some bound in leather, others in less familiar materials. Ceremonial blades, chalices, and incense burners line the room, each item infused with intention, history, and the whisper of unseen forces.
This is not a place for idle curiosity. The Altar Room demands presence, respect, and purpose. It is a chamber of communion, of pact and prayer, where the veil is thinnest and the unseen listens closely. Here, spirit and shadow converge—and the will of the practitioner becomes law.