But of course, Zyren didn't even look at them.
The old female healer and the young man beside her were still kneeling, their foreheads pressed desperately to the ground. But the lack of acknowledgment only seemed to heighten their fear. They trembled harder, shoulders shaking, eyes wide in silent terror.
"I didn't know! She told me—she begged me to come—please—" the male healer stammered, his voice thick with dread. His words fell over themselves like a crumbling wall.
Zyren's expression didn't shift.
He hadn't spoken, hadn't moved—but the energy in the room had shifted entirely.
"ENOUGH," Zyren said, sharply.
He didn't shout, and yet his voice sliced through the room like a blade, making the walls feel colder. Every sound died instantly. Even the whimpering stopped.
