The Sunrise Embassy did not share the airy grace of the Zenith towers. It was a monolith of black basalt and blood-red cedar anchored deep into the island's bedrock. As Vane stepped through the threshold, the air changed. It was not a trap, but the sheer density of the mana pooling within the stone made every breath feel thicker. It smelled of old iron and the sharp, coppery tang of warriors who lived for the front lines.
Vane walked beside Ashe with his back perfectly straight. He did not look at the Eastern guards who stood like statues in the shadows. He used the Sovereign's Glide Valerica had drilled into him, moving with a calm, predatory boredom that masked his focus.
"My brother is in the central hall," Ashe whispered. Her red eyes darted toward the dark corners of the fortress. "He does not believe in pleasantries. If he asks you a question, answer it like you are choosing a weapon."
"I always do," Vane replied.
