The warehouse echoed with the low hum of the Heart of the Deep Forge, its light washing the cracked walls in pale white and molten gold.
Dren's eyes lingered on Zane only for a moment before snapping back to Mira. There was no warmth in them now—only disdain.
"Why are you doing this, Dren…?" Mira asked again, her voice trembling despite herself.
For a split second, something twisted in Dren's expression.
Then it hardened.
"Shut up," he snapped. "You were always like this. Pathetic. Always in my way."
Mira flinched as if struck.
Dren took a step forward, the Heart drifting with him, its barrier gliding effortlessly through the air.
"It was you," he continued, voice sharp and venomous, "who ruined him. You changed the old man."
Grom's grip on his hammer tightened, knuckles whitening.
"A human," Dren went on, sneering. "A pathetic human girl who thought she could stand shoulder to shoulder with dwarves. With me."
