Morning returned with no softness.
Elira sat at the long stone table within the castle's central hall, her hands wrapped loosely around a cup she had not yet touched. Across from her, Serin Vale stood rigid, watching every movement as though expecting betrayal to arrive in physical form.
General Rykor Thane remained near the entrance, unmoving, a silent threat made flesh.
Kael entered without announcement.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Even Rykor straightened slightly.
Elira did not look away from him.
"You did not deny what I saw," she said.
Kael took his seat at the far end of the table. "There was nothing to deny."
Serin's voice cut through the tension. "Then you admit to what you have done."
"I admit only to survival," Kael replied.
Elira leaned forward slightly. "Survival does not burn cities."
Kael's gaze lifted.
For a moment, the entire room felt as though it had narrowed to the space between them.
"You assume you understand what was burned," he said.
Elira did not flinch. "Then explain it."
Silence answered her.
And silence, in him, felt more dangerous than rage.