The Tribunal envoy’s departure was not a retreat, but a strategic withdrawal. The air in the Spire’s central chamber remained thick with the unspoken threat, a psychic residue of their polished malice. The Asteri had dismissed the court, his ancient face unreadable. Elara had merely given Ren a long, calculating look before turning to follow her master. The show was over. The verdict was pending.
Ren stood where he had been, the echoes of the envoy’s final, silken threat coiling in the air. “The vessel will be made safe, Sovereign. Even from you.” The words were a needle dipped in poison, designed to fester. And they were working.
He could feel the memory rising, a leviathan from the depths of a past he tried to keep buried. It was the feeling of their words—the cold, impersonal certaint
