"Hello there, Paladin Theron."
The voice was soft. Clear. Neither warm nor cold—merely present, like it had always been there, waiting for the silence to end.
Theron's chest tightened.
That name—his name—spoken aloud by the very man he was meant to hunt, the man cloaked in myth and rumor.
His breath hitched. His tongue faltered.
But before he could form a word, Cedric spoke again.
"You've been tailing me for quite a while now."
A pause.
"You must have something you want me to say, right?"
Cedric tilted his head slightly. Not mockingly—more like someone curiously reading a page that had already been written.
"Well… I see that it's not you."
A longer pause now, deliberate.
"It's the High Priest who has something to say."
Impossible.
