The Word-Lock of Vaul Anor

You enter a circular chamber of black basalt polished to a mirror sheen. A sealed arch of dark glass fills the far wall, its interior holding a slow-moving field of stars. At the room's center rests a waist-high dais with four silver-edged plaques and a shallow circular cradle. Four carved stone tiles lie in a recessed tray nearby. Dust trembles whenever the chamber breathes, and each plaque glows faintly when its word is spoken. The air smells of cold iron, extinguished candles, and rain on ancient stone.