"Who is it?"
A resonant, measured voice rolled from beyond the thick wooden door, carrying the authority of one accustomed to command.
"Disciple Erik reporting, sir. I have a matter of critical importance," Erik called, guiding Jake through the moonlit courtyard toward a softly glowing study.
They passed bonsai pines and luminescent spirit lanterns, pausing just inside the open threshold.
Rowan Hiddleston, the notorious core disciple of Enforcer Peak, sat at a desk. He was not a young man, but ageless in the way of cultivators: black hair streaked with steel, skin unlined but eyes coiled with subtle wrath and tired wisdom. Two cups of tea steamed on the table, untouched—clear evidence of an earlier, and likely important, conversation.
Unmistakably, this was where Elder Azel and Rowan had spoken not minutes before.
Rowan set aside a scroll with graceful finality, looking them over with a flat, unreadable gaze.
"It's late. What is so urgent?"
