Lucien did not expect the other Ancient Beings to endure.
After the Storm Roc was taken, the chamber quieted. The cages still rolled and spun, tapping against each other like crude bells... yet most of them chose silence over compromise.
Their eyes followed Lucien as he walked away and the hatred in them remained sharp.
What surprised him was what sat beneath it.
They still had enough pride and arrogance to pretend they were not helpless.
Lucien exhaled slowly.
Only the Storm Roc had cracked, just because it could not tolerate looking undignified. A creature that treated beauty as doctrine would rather bleed than be seen tumbling through the void like discarded cargo.
The others endured the humiliation like it was a trial of faith.
Lucien stopped at the edge of the chamber and turned back.
He was already shaping a negotiation that would break their resistance without giving them leverage.
But then... something changed.
The air within his senses tightened.
