No one breathed.
The grand doors stood open. The woman who had said hello took one unhurried step into the hall, then another. Her presence changed the space without a single flare of aura. It was in the way she stood, the way her eyes moved, the way the room began to behave as if it had always been meant to hold her.
Tiamat moved first.
The Radiant Dragon didn't rise or roar. She simply turned, and the hall turned with her. Her voice carried warm and steady.
"Guest rights are honored in my hall," she said. "State your name and purpose."
The woman bowed—not deep, not shallow, exactly correct.
"Lyra Vionn," she said. "Crown Cantor of the Cantari. Envoy of the Seven who stand against the Demon Lords. I come with greeting. I come with assurance. I come with purpose."
Marcus stepped forward as host. Lyralei matched him half a pace to the right. Ian held position at his father's back, jaw set, hands loose. Guards tensed, then eased when Tiamat did not move to stop Lyra's next step.
