The heavy, petrified wooden doors of the High Hall slammed shut with a resounding, echoing thud. Yet, the suffocating, foul tension that the Zharun Envoy had brought into the sacred chamber refused to dissipate. It lingered in the air, thick, rancid, and entirely overpowering, cutting straight through the fragrant, calming smoke of High Shaman Zephyra's medicinal incense.
The Envoy's blatant disrespect and the sheer, murderous malice he had directed at the room hung over the tribal council like a suffocating dark cloud.
The lackey elder… the one who had been nervously groveling just moments before to appease the hideous intruder… suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable. The adrenaline of his sycophancy was fading, replaced by the heavy, judgmental silence of the High Hall.
