The feast moved on as if nothing had happened, but every elf in the hall was tense. Even the music felt thinner, as if the drums feared drawing too much attention. The clan banners swayed quietly from the tall pillars, casting long shadows over the tables.
Jorghan stood near the alcove entrance, watching Aetheus disappear into the crowd. The tall elf's last words still echoed faintly in the air, hanging between those who understood their weight.
"You mistake fear for respect," Aetheus had said.
"Power makes one submit," Jorghan had replied.
Two ideas. Two paths. Two futures.
Sigora stepped beside him, her expression carefully neutral. "Let the man go, Jorghan. He came to warn Kael'var more than he came for you."
"He came to measure me," Jorghan said. "And I measured him back."
"Does it matter?"
"It will," he said. "Later."
