Ren lifted his gaze, the crystal light of the hall caught in his eyes. He set down his knife, the soft clink against the plate carrying more weight than speech.
"My plans," he said slowly, as though testing each word before it left him, "are not gentle ones. The path I walk does not lead me back here, not soon. I must go where calamity rises, and seek the keys that only those cursed with shadow can endure."
The chandeliers hummed faintly, mana threads vibrating in the silence. Ervin's breath stalled; his hands folded tightly against his lap. Kairn did not blink, though his stare cut sharper, as if measuring Ren anew.
Veylan leaned back, fingers curved lightly around his goblet. He did not flinch at the weight of Ren's confession, but his eyes deepened, a pool that did not show its floor.
"You speak of leaving as though it is already written."
Ren gave a slight nod. "It is. This place gave me warmth. But they will not wait. The first calamity has already stirred as you spoke."
