The beast's roar tore through the golden hall like thunder made flesh. It was not merely sound but a wave of pressure, a force that pressed down on the lungs and rattled the bones of every soul present. Tens of thousands of voices died in an instant. Conversations cut short, laughter evaporated, and even the shuffle of restless feet stilled.
For the first time since Avin had entered the hall, true silence reigned.
The colossal creature stood at the far platform, towering even while crouched on four muscular legs. It was the size of a small house, its body cloaked in thick brown fur that shimmered faintly under the radiant light spilling from the ceiling. The head resembled that of a lion, broad and noble, but its wings—two vast structures of leathery membrane—spread outward like the sails of some ancient warship. And its talons… sharp, curved, and avian, they clicked against the marble floor as if eager to shred it apart.
