Lor let the door close behind him, the soft thud sealing them in.
His pulse quickened, not from nerves but from the thrill of her challenge—the way she stood, unyielding, daring him to prove his words weren't just smoke.
He stepped closer, keeping his movements slow, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're sure?" he asked, his tone low, testing the ice. "Once we start, there's no going back."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't waver. "I said start it."
The quiet inside Ameth's cottage was a stark contrast to the market's pulsing chaos—a stillness so deep it felt like the walls themselves held their breath.
The faint tick of cooling rafters punctuated the silence, mingling with the soft, herbal scent of dried bundles hanging overhead.
Light filtered through a small, warped-glass window, casting crooked stripes across the worn floorboards.
He gave Ameth a short nod, the motion clipped but purposeful. "Alright."
