He stood, wearing only a simple wrap around his loins, empty hands dangling at his sides.Loins, in the first sentence? Really?
I'm betting his hands aren't the only thing dangling.
So you might reconsider having that word so close to the other word. Ahem.
He cocked his head,Another word choice you might reconsider.
listening to the silence, savoring the quality of it, the absolute stillness as if the world held its breath in anticipation. The hall, unlit, was pitch black, though Rak did not have any problem seeing. The depth of the darkness was another thing to enjoy, and Rak did so fully."As if the world held its breath in anticipation" is a bit of a cliche.
Think about starting with a more active first paragraph. At the end of this one, we still don't know where we are or anything about the character--we're still without clue about the story we're reading. Save this drawing-out-of-a-moment for later in the story.
Once he had been a Royal Dancer, before Scorth had rescued him from bondage. He remained a Dancer, it was just that he no longer Danced for kings. Hearing something that only his mind perceived, Rak began the Dance, his hands and feet sweeping through the still air, singing a song of rhythm and motion. As he tread the opening measures of a Dance that would have stunned the Zothian Dance Masters, he could feel the power already whispering down his limbs, dark sparks of night flame gathering in his wake, shooting out with every light step and whirl of the Dance that was older than time.You lost me. Several times. Scorth? Zothian? Night flame? Is he singing, or is it his hands and feet (and if so, um, what?)? Why is the man in a lioncloth standing in the pitch black and dancing? Why would the dance have stunned... anyone? Especially if it's that old?
Zotien, Lord of Night, came down to earth, and lightning crackled along the walls as the God joined the Dance, or perhaps He had already been Dancing, and His arrival allowed the priest to perceive it. Rak flowed through the measures, opposite the God, in perfect symmetry, and the power built around them. The room, or the perception of the room, faded, until the two Dancers, one mortal, one not, Danced down a cloud of glowing dust, the stars surrounding them. The tempo quickened, the stars spinning as they journeyed on, colorful orbs spinning about them in glorious display. On and on went the Dance, the stars together in their majesty swirling about a bright center, a center so full of stars and light it hurt to look upon it. The Dance of the stars and the orbs was the same as the Dance of the God and His priest.And the confusion continues. Zotien? What did his arrival allow the priest to perceive? And then what sounds like a (pretty decent) acid trip?
I join all your readers in the Eternal Question:
High fantasy is challenging to write for the very reasons you're running into here-- you've created a very (very) different world than the one we're in, and it's going to be uphill work introducing your readers to all the differences and doing it so that they can understand.
But listen, we can't get to page 20 before we feel like we know what's going on. It's got to happen on page 1, or we've moved on to some other book.
I would suggest starting with a scene that combines action, clear character development, and a situation with only mild differences from our world, so that we can ease our way into this soup of unfamiliar names, magical dance steps, and nonstandard clothing choices.