"Were you arguing?" one of the gods asked.
Seirion and Maloren separated instantly, almost as if touching each other had burned them. They both answered in unison, with the kind of precision that could only come from panic.
"No."
The simultaneous response caused a slight murmur among some of the present gods, though no one dared say anything to them directly.
The God of Destruction watched them with an unreadable expression. He had short, straight hair of a dark brown shade, bronzed skin, and an imposing body that looked made for war. His eyes were a dark red, almost brown, carrying both strength and weariness.
He was a god who imposed just by existing, and when he moved his arms, the metal bracers around his forearms emitted a deep sound.
"I'm glad you aren't arguing," he said. "I've summoned you for a meeting."
Maloren let out a soft scoff, the kind of subtle mockery only someone who knew him well could detect.
