He spread his arms like an old, sparsely feathered bird trying to shield the chicks behind him with his wings.
"Listen to me!" His voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the silent night. "Everyone, listen to me!"
The crowd fell silent.
Dozens of pairs of eyes watched him—old and young, men and women. Some were fearful, some were lost, some feigned composure, and some held the steely resolve of Warriors.
"The Golden Thread was cast by the High Priest," Darius's voice steadied, each word spoken slowly and deliberately. "She is protecting us, protecting us from the invaders' attack. As long as the Golden Thread holds, we are safe. All we have to do is wait here. Don't cause trouble, and don't distract her."
Someone in the crowd muttered something, but no one replied.
The few injured Warriors were the first to react. They bent down and placed their hands over their left chests.
Old Julius followed suit.
Then came the woman who had been shelling beans.
