Somehow, Vorta's smile sent a chill crawling up the back of my neck.
It wasn't particularly sinister. That was the problem.
There was no anger in it, no theatrical menace—just the quiet expression of someone who had finally reached the point where patience was no longer necessary.
I watched him pace across the chamber, his footsteps measured against the polished floor. Then he stopped.
The shift was immediate.
His shoulders straightened. His expression emptied of its earlier amusement, replaced by something colder and infinitely more authoritative.
"Kneel."
The single word boomed through the chamber.
A pressure wave followed.
Agnos, Jiuge, and Heim dropped to their knees so quickly the movement barely registered as voluntary.
I stared.
For a moment, my brain simply refused to process what I was seeing.
Wait.
What?
