Selene's fingers clasped in Zephyr's solid, warm hand as they ascended the final, crooked staircase.
They emerged onto a wide, circular platform of dark, polished stone that gleamed under the morning sun. Below, a sea of faces turned towards them as one. A force of collective energy hit her—a thousand stares, a thousand judgment.
A gasp escaped her lips, though it was drowned by the sheer volume of the pack. She looked for a face, for an expression, but they were a blur of motion and raw, powerful intent. All she could see was their collective suspicion. A channel of water had been diverted, flowing through a path carved into the ground before the platform.
Otsanna stepped to the forefront.
