Before the panic could completely swallow my voice, Draven stepped forward. His long, broad frame cut through the tension, stepping directly between me and the mocking crowd. Without a word, he reached out, his large, gloved hand gently taking the silver announcement crystal from my trembling fingers. His posture was imposing, his silver hair gleaming under the chandeliers, his sharp jaw locked in absolute composure.
Draven raised the crystal to his lips. His deep baritone boomed through the hall, laced with an absolute, terrifying stillness that instantly strangled the laughter in the room.
"If it is the ancient trial of scales and blood you crave..." Draven rumbled, his dark hazel eyes burning like dying stars as he stared straight at Eichhorst, "...then step into the open arena."
