[Literally.]
I tilted my head slightly, letting the mask's shadow hide the faint curve of my mouth.
[You don't look particularly impressive to me, but the Great One seems to think otherwise. He said that while you're weak now, you might grow into something troublesome later.]
Ryen's eyes narrowed. He wasn't buying it completely—but that was fine. Doubt was useful. Doubt meant fear.
"…Then wouldn't it make more sense for you to kill me now," he asked, his voice steady but strained, "while I'm still weak?"
A fair question. Logical, even.
[It would,] I admitted easily, lowering my head just a fraction. [But that's not for me to decide.]
The shadows around me stirred faintly, curling like smoke in an unseen wind.
[The Great One prefers to let potential bloom before deciding whether to crush it or use it. You've caught his attention, and for now—] I paused, letting the silence stretch before finishing, [that's both your curse and your blessing.]
