"Do you trust him?"
"I trust what I've seen," Nyara finally said. "He withstood a life and death battle against a peak earth magus. He healed my sister—something our healers failed at for a decade. And more importantly…" Her voice grew quieter. "He chose to help, even when he didn't have to."
Vasu exhaled, resting back on the throne. "You speak as if you care for him."
Nyara didn't flinch. "I care for the future of our people. If Kent is our fate, I will not let arrogance blind us again."
The Patriarch was silent again before finally raising his hand. A flash of sea-blue light surged from his ring, and in a ripple of magical glow, a medallion appeared in his palm.
It was no ordinary token—shaped like a coiled Naga with a Sea Trident etched along its spine. The scales on the medallion shimmered, as if alive, and a faint pressure pulsed from it—one of command and ancient memory.
