[Silthara Palace—Malika's Office—Continuation]
Silence ruled the chamber, not the gentle silence of rest—but the heavy kind, the kind that pressed against the ribs and demanded truth.
Iru knelt before Levin, spine straight, hands flat against the stone. His breathing was steady. Too steady. No tremor, no fear—only patience, like someone who had waited a long time for this moment.
Levin did not raise his voice; he did not need to.
"WHO. ARE. YOU?"
The words settled into the room like carved tablets dropped into still water. Iru did not answer at once. Instead, he inhaled—slowly, measuredly—then lifted his eyes fully to meet Levin's gaze. There was no defiance in them. No mockery.
Only something old.
"Before I answer," Iru said quietly, "you should decide something, Malika."
Levin's eyes narrowed a fraction. "You are not in a position to set terms."
Iru inclined his head as he said softer, "I know, but what I say next will not let this palace remain the same."
