The chamber had grown quiet, save for the sigh of the sea pressing against the cliffside walls. The weight of what they had uncovered; The Hollow Nine, the Black Whale tribe, the stolen shard hung like a storm cloud that refused to break.
Khael stood, his gaze still fixed on the wavering candle flame before him, the light reflecting faintly off his armor.
(The Hollow Nine… the Black Whale tribe… and Seirath Eluron. The story's pieces are falling into place. But if this world is repeating the script I know, then the worst is yet to come.)
Elder Neria rose from her seat. Her pearl-threaded robes whispered as she turned toward the group. The glow of her Shinrei pulsed faintly beneath her skin—wisdom and age entwined.
"We should tell this to the Keiryuu…" she said. Her voice, soft yet firm, carried a weight that silenced even the ocean's breath.
Khael nodded, steady and sure. "I know… that's what we're going to do."
