Soren didn't move from the terrace for several breaths after Aren vanished. The wind cut sharper now, like the air itself had been waiting to see how the meeting would end.
Valenna curled around his mind, a quiet hum of satisfaction.
He expected you to fold. To bow. To show weakness he could use.
You gave him stone. Good.
Soren exhaled once, slow, controlled, then turned and headed back toward the interior corridors. The torches along the walls sputtered as he passed — the Academy draft always did that when the mountain winds rose.
But as he descended the stairs, he felt it.
Eyes.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Just watching.
Measuring.
He didn't turn. Feldren shadows didn't attack you in the open — they catalogued you, filed you away, traced the shape of your aura from memory.
Fine. Let them watch.
At the base of the stairs, a voice spoke.
"You survived."
