The Weight of Loyalty
Leon's jaw clenched, a barely perceptible crease of tension flashing through his face. His aura surged with it—far from raging or reckless, but heavy and controlled, the kind of barely restrained pressure that made the air around him grow thick. It weighed over the soldiers like the crush of a storm cloud, black and smothering, threatening thunder but withholding the blow.
"Your orders, sir," he replied finally. His voice did not require loudness. It cut harder than the loudest cry, gentle but with an edge, such as steel gliding over glass. Every word flowed into the quiet, leaving no room for air. "So why? Why disobey me?"
No one was brave enough to speak. The silence that ensued was total, thunderous in its oppression, as though even the air hesitated to breathe.
