Sunlight continued its bright reach across the floor, silvering the kneeling shape of Elder Thalira, whose shoulders remained bowed beneath the invisible weight of the sentence. His breathing stayed shallow and uneven, as though his body had not yet accepted the reality of what he had been commanded to do.
One day.
Find the source.
Kill him.
Or be destroyed with him.
Elder Maevra broke the stillness first, her voice calm but careful. "Assimilation is not always simple. Some rogues refuse structure because they have never known it. Some were born beyond the borders. Some were made by exile rather than rebellion."
Her words did not openly dispute him. They tested whether severity had room for distinction.
Thessian regarded her for a moment, weighing not merely the question but the thinking behind it.
"Then teach them," he said.
The reply carried no softness, but neither was it careless.
Maevra held his gaze. "And if they refuse?"
Thessian did not blink.
