The queen took one last glance at the trembling man who had stumbled through her portal—Devon, as he called himself—but her eyes quickly drifted past him. She had already judged him harmless, at least for now. There was no malice in him, no shadow of intent. His presence was a mystery, but not one she could afford to unravel just yet.
There were heavier matters to attend to.
She turned from the stranger, her regal bearing unfaltering despite the visible toll the portal had taken on her.
"Marcus," she said, drawing the young man's attention.
He straightened a bit, brushing the sweat from his brow. His hair was damp, his clothes still clinging to him from the rush through the portal, but he nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. I gave it to him."
The others looked to him immediately—Jason, Sophia, Borik, Eleanor, Von. Even the stranger Devon shrank back against the wall, observing the change in tone, sensing something bigger unfolding.
"You're certain?" the queen asked.
