Below, Pyris moved with Elsa and Alera. No crown. No title. No divine sigil aglow on his brow. And yet the world curved around him like gravity itself had grown envious. Nobles drifted out of his way unconsciously. Some stared and forgot why. Others whispered his name with the reverence of prayer or the tremble of fear. And most—poor fools—didn't even realize why their knees felt weak.
But Zalaria knew why. Always did, now more saw after what she'd witnessed tonight and the visions she just had when Song had stopped that attack.
"He's not a mortal," she said, voice dropping.
Selene didn't flinch. "No one important and significant is."
Now Zalaria turned—slowly, like a storm changing direction.
"You want the truth, don't you?" Selene said nothing. But silence, for her, was an answer more loaded than any confession.
So Zalaria inhaled—once. And began.
