A Royal Living Origin, his form a shimmering, white-gold beacon of pure genesis, floated beside her.
"Origin Ama," he whispered, his voice a mixture of awe and dawning horror, "is… The Early Creature, Osmont, the same Osmont you had an… interaction with at the Kleos Concordat?"
Gias's pure white eyes, which held the light of a billion nascent stars, turned to him.
She did not speak, but her glare was a physical force, a silent, furious question that screamed, Why are you asking such stupid fucking questions?
The Royal Living Origin flinched, his own brilliant aura dimming under the weight of her unspoken rage.
A sour, bitter mood settled over the entire contingent of Living Origins. They all remembered. They all remembered the quiet, confident words of Duke Whisker.