Chapter 127: The Silence That Cannot Be Carried
While Lyria cleaned her room, a meeting was going on.
The Crescent Council Hall had never been a place for raised voices.
Not because decorum demanded restraint—though it did—but because the chamber itself permitted no excess. No echo lingered. No word travelled beyond its walls. Sound entered, existed briefly… and died.
It had been built that way.
Or rather, sealed that way.
A quieting work, old as the throne itself, lay woven into the very stone. Even the keenest werewolf senses found nothing to grasp beyond those doors. No heartbeat could be traced through the walls, no whisper stolen, no breath followed.
Within this chamber, truth could be spoken without fear of being hunted.
And that alone made it dangerous.
