"The capital!"
"Hell no!"
Luther's voice echoed through the temple corridor like a thunderclap. The heavy oak doors of the meeting room slammed open, shaking on their hinges as he stormed out, his boots hitting the marble floor with controlled fury. His expression was blank—but the kind of blank that screamed murder beneath the surface.
"Saint, wait!" Elder Nimo called, his round face red from running. Elder Haro wasn't far behind, half stumbling in his haste, clutching his scrolls to his chest like they might protect him from Luther's wrath.
Behind them, Liliana exited the room more composed, her red hair glinting in the temple's light, though her black eyes followed Luther's back with quiet wariness.
"Saint, please," Haro puffed as he stepped in front of Luther, blocking his path. "Perhaps we can still reason this out—"
Luther stopped, staring at him. His mouth didn't move, but his thoughts screamed loud enough to crack the walls.
