Strax watched the elders gasping, panting, their eyes wide with fear and disbelief. The hall, which had just been the scene of a clash of egos and old traditions, now looked more like a silent battlefield—not because of visible destruction, but because of the brutal breakdown of the hierarchy that the elders swore was eternal.
He walked slowly, his footsteps echoing louder than they should, weighing like hammers on sacred stone. His scarlet eyes lingered on each member of the council, one by one, without haste. The silence now was not tense—it was absolute. The kind of silence that precedes a sentence.
"You accused me of insolence," he said, his voice as cold as Tiamat's, but with a flaming core pulsing inside. "You threatened to attack me for asking for answers about the whereabouts of my mother's body. You... dared to rise up against me for showing anger. Why, exactly?" He leaned forward slightly, looking directly at the oldest of them. "For breaking protocol?"
