The air felt thick—almost heavy—with silence.
Even among the serene whispers of the forest, something about the moment was… off.
Luca stood still, his gaze meeting that of the Elven Queen who stood before them—radiant and ethereal beneath the golden rays filtering through the canopy. Behind her stood several elders, their robes adorned with patterns of silver vines and ancient runes, their eyes sharp and calculating as they studied him.
The attention made the back of his neck prickle.
He straightened his posture, forcing a calm smile. "It's my pleasure to be personally received by Her Majesty," he said politely, his tone steady despite the odd tension gnawing at him.
Yet, the stares didn't fade.
The elders' gazes remained fixed—narrowed, almost reptilian, like they were peeling apart his soul piece by piece.
Why… do I feel like I'm being graded right now? Luca thought, resisting the urge to glance away.
