The cavern echoed with the silence that followed. The humans leaned closer, eyes wide, waiting. Some gripped their weapons tighter, as though bracing for an answer they feared.
Nysha's shadows flared faintly, defensive. "He saved you," she snapped, her voice raw from sleeplessness. "Without him, you'd all be bones in that cavern."
"Maybe," one of the soldiers muttered, his voice bitter. "Or maybe we traded one monster for another."
Ashwing hissed sharply, smoke curling from his nostrils.
Lindarion's lips curved faintly. He rose to his feet, slow, deliberate. His height cast long shadows across the firelight, his presence pulling the air tighter. His eyes glowed faint, crimson bleeding at their edges from the lingering strain of his core.
"I am Lindarion Sunblade," he said, his voice carrying like steel drawn from its sheath. "Prince of Eldorath. My name alone holds weight far beyond these caverns you hide in."
The words struck them like a blow. Murmurs rippled again.
