Then Master Feng moved. It was not dramatic, nor hurried, but with the quiet decisiveness of a man who wasted no motion. Rising to his feet, he let the folds of his robe fall into perfect order and inclined his head toward the others.
"Come," he said simply.
The four of them stepped down from their seats in unspoken unison, the rich folds of their ceremonial robes swaying with each measured step.
They did not hurry — that alone was enough to heighten the unease in the crowd. Every eye followed them as they descended from the dais, disappearing into the narrow archway draped in shadows.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the sound of the arena dulled, replaced by the quiet hush of the chamber beyond.
The alcove was cool, the kind of cool that clung to the bones. Stone walls rose around them, ancient and damp with the scent of moss and time.
