The fallout of Zadkiel's words was a deathly silence so absolute, one would even hear the beating of a sparrow's wings. None spoke, simply staring at his satisfied face, before my uncle calmly turned around and began to quietly leave, but then he stopped again and said in a resolute tone, one that sounded like a grim promise "Your death will not be a slow one."
"We shall see." He snarkily replied.
