A voice, thin and unexpectedly calm, drifted down from the rafters of the Whitmore family's main hall and the whole room snapped into silence. Conversation died at once. Three figures moved without hesitation: Uncle Jed, Blackie, and Julian, each a presence that made people step back. Matriarch Whitmore rose from her chair, a cold light in her eyes. No one could say when the newcomer had slipped in; one moment the rafters were empty, the next a shadow had announced itself.
Julian's fingertips trembled with barely concealed power, the kind that promised a lethal end if the man overhead was an enemy. Tension held the hall like a held breath, every head tilted up, every muscle ready. Then Aunt Melinda, a beat slower than most but steady, broke the hush. "Don't move, it's Brother Starfall," she said. The name eased the air immediately. They felt no hostility in the voice from above. Someone dropped down with the ease of habit, landing lightly as if he had done it all his life.
