The room was heavy with silence after the sharp clash of violence had ended. The three men broken bodies lay sprawled lifeless on the cold stone floor. Servilia, trembling, sat on the ground where she had fallen, her wide eyes fixed on Nathan.
Nathan stood motionless, his white hair faintly shifting with the draft that crept through the atrium's open arches. His gaze was sharp, distant, his senses extended like a hunter's, combing through the stillness for even the faintest trace of another presence. For a moment, only the distant dripping of water from a fountain could be heard. Finally, when he was certain that the threat had passed, he lowered his hand, exhaling slowly.
