A silence settled in the candlelit chamber, the kind that presses against the heart and makes the air itself hold its breath.
Amber stood frozen, her lips parted but unable to speak. The words he had uttered still burned in the air between them, heavy and impossible.
"A...A false pro.. prophet."
She felt the shape of the phrase like a blade against her tongue, sharp, forbidden. It echoed through her mind like the toll of a heretic bell. For a heartbeat, she thought she had misheard him, but the look in his eyes told her otherwise. He had meant every word.
"Wait, no...no ..no no.."
Amber staggered back, her hand covering her mouth as though the air itself had turned poisonous. Why? Even thinking...even having such thoughts felt, Sinful, like she had heard... that should Never be heard.
He had told her of his plans to build a guild that would bind all power: church, nobles, adventurers, merchants. It had sounded ambitious, almost impossible—but never impious. Never this.
