Nathan
I watched the elders leave the hall one after another.
Not a single one of them walked out with dignity. They tried to look calm, tried to look wise, tried to look like ancient pillars of power—but I saw the truth beneath their robes. Their steps were too quick. Their shoulders too tight. Their whispers too soft.
Fear.
Fear always gives itself away.
It has a scent. Sharp. Bitter. Almost sour.
And I tasted it in the air as they passed me.
None of them dared meet my eyes. Not directly. Not fully. But every single one of them felt me standing there. I could sense it in the way their breathing shifted, in the way their voices dropped when they drew close. They did not trust me. They did not like me.
Good.
I prefer honesty.
I did not move from where I stood. My feet stayed planted as if the marble floor had grown around them and decided I belonged there more than it did. My hands rested easily at my sides. My face held a small, patient smile.
