"…Is the Primordial really that bad?"
The moment those words left Seraphine's mouth, silence fell like a stone.
All ten elven leaders seated around the long, wooden table turned their eyes toward her, stunned.
No one spoke at first. It wasn't anger she saw on their faces, it was disbelief.
Even her father, Duskaar, stood slowly from his seat, brows furrowed.
"You…" His voice came low and strained. "Why would you ask that?"
Seraphine blinked. She hadn't expected that kind of reaction. "I—"
Duskaar's eyes locked onto hers, sharp and serious.
His usual calm was gone, replaced with something Seraphine rarely saw from him: fear.
For as long as she could remember, her father had always been strong.
He was a pillar of Sylvarae, one of those who had walked through the sixth layer of the [Forsaken] realm and returned alive.
She had watched him stand tall against beasts that could level cities.
But now… he looked shaken.
