---
Time moved. At first it felt like ten minutes. Then twenty. Then the hall's bell rang twice.
Sekhmet's gaze remained steady. He did not fidget.
In purgatory, waiting was survival. Waiting taught patience. Waiting taught you that panic was useless, and control was everything.
Auri remained still too, unshaken by time.
Finally, footsteps approached.
The clerk returned, slightly breathless, cheeks flushed from moving quickly through corridors where other people's greed tried to slow him down.
He bowed. "Sir," he said. "Arrangements are complete."
Sekhmet's eyes lifted.
"Where."
The clerk gestured toward a corridor lined with darker wood and cleaner rune-carvings, the kind of corridor built for private negotiations where secrets were bought and sold in whispers.
"Private Room Seven," the clerk said. "Rune-silence applied. Two guards outside. Mira has been escorted. The twins have been escorted. They are waiting."
Auri's posture tightened subtly. Not aggressive.
Ready.
