Calisí:
The chaos in the council chamber is loud enough to turn a newborn deaf.
Voices collide in the dimly lit room, angry magic crackles in the air as the witches and warlocks of the council argue over one another.
I trail my finger across the table between us, carved from obsidian stone. It throbs faintly with our collective energy… anger, fear, humiliation.
Even this inanimate object senses our humiliation. Fascinating.
I sit still as I watch the men and women before me scream and curse at each other.
Avaren is at the head of the table, opposite me, with his head down. He hates the noise. I can tell.
These fools had better quiet down before Avaren makes them.
I learned long ago that silence is far more effective than shouting.
But these idiot s shout anyway.
"They slaughtered our men!" one of the elder warlocks roars, slamming his fist on the table.
