The moment the projection vanished for good and the last echo of Selenne's footsteps dissolved into silence, the hall felt like it exhaled all at once.
A beat passed.
Then the stir began.
Chairs scraping. Boots shifting. Voices rising in low, overlapping chatter.
"Is that it?"
"Thought it'd be longer, honestly."
"Gods, that was a sermon, not a briefing."
Elara didn't move yet. She remained seated, gaze lingering where the tiers of light had hovered moments ago. Even with the hall brightening under mundane chandeliers again, she could still feel the afterimage of it—etched behind her eyes like a warning.
'Paragon… and what it costs to stand there.'
Beside her, Aurelian gave a long, theatrical sigh and stretched, his arms thrown carelessly over the back of his chair. "Well. That was invigorating," he said, in the dryest tone possible. "Nothing gets my blood flowing like a good fiscal breakdown of the mage economy."
