The echo of her own footsteps was a judgment, each sharp report a fresh condemnation in the shadowy halls of Tao's stronghold.
Lian Zhen walked with a straight back, a mask of composure she had long perfected, but inside, her heart was a stone in her chest. She pushed down the sickening churn of guilt and fear as she passed under an archway and into a massive, starkly lit chamber.
In the center of the room, a holographic map of the land pulsed with a soft, blue light. Before it, a figure stood like a monolith, encased in gleaming black and gold armor. His back was to her. Tao. The soft hum of mana was a constant pressure in the air, a physical testament to the power he commanded.
He didn't turn until her footsteps ceased a respectful distance behind him. When he did, his face was placid, his eyes cold as they swept over her, taking in her travel-worn state.
