Soren held his ground despite every nerve screaming to retreat. The shard against his chest burned cold enough to ache, though Valenna remained silent.
"What do you want from me?" he asked, hating how his voice wavered.
Sylas's mouth curved in what might have been a smile on a normal man. On him, it looked like a predator baring teeth. "Want? An interesting question. What does the sculptor want from uncarved stone? What does fire want from wood?"
He circled slowly, movements fluid and precise as he studied Soren from different angles. Not threatening, evaluating, like a butcher appraising livestock.
"I see it in you," Sylas said, stopping directly before him. "Genius buried beneath mediocrity. Potential hidden beneath constraints you don't even recognize." His green eyes narrowed slightly. "You carry a weight you do not yet understand."
