One of the elders suddenly looked around the chamber, his sharp gaze sweeping over every face present.
"If these are the conditions," he said slowly, voice edged with unease, "then… who will do it?"
The question hung in the air.
"In the past month," he continued, "who among us has accomplished an act of true bravery? One worthy of such a sacrifice?"
Silence answered him.
They were preparing for war, yes—but no one had yet marched beyond their borders. No one had fought.
No one had bled. No one had performed a deed great enough to justify offering their life.
The elder scoffed bitterly.
"And even if there were such a person," he said, glancing at the long table filled with wrinkled faces and jeweled robes, "would it be any of us?"
Old men who loved comfort. Loved safety. Loved life.
"No," he said flatly. "Not one of us would."
The truth settled heavily over the gathering.
Silmarien knew it.
So did the Regent, who remained utterly silent.
