Pressure
Helen froze instantly after her very first step into the hall, as if her feet had been suddenly nailed to the polished marble floor. Her heart thumped, but she forced herself to remain calm, taking in the space before her.
The hall itself seemed ordinary, almost exactly as she might have expected: a long, stately chamber filled with the sharp scent of polished wood and the faint metallic tang of disciplined energy. Around a massive, dark table sat a large group of people in immaculate military uniforms, their brows slick with sweat, voices raised as they argued strategy, studied maps, and debated tactics. Clearly, a war plan was in progress.
This was unsurprising, given what Seraphina had told her earlier. But what Helen had not anticipated was what happened the instant she entered the room.
Every single head turned toward her. Instantly.
