---
In the space where gods watched and whispered and manipulated, consensus had crystallized into command.
The instructions arrived in Jeren's mind with the weight of divine authority behind them—not a suggestion, not a recommendation, but an order delivered with the kind of urgency that made clear there would be consequences for non-compliance.
Remove him. Transport the vessel away from the arena. Somewhere without access to blood, without the potential for absorption, somewhere he could be contained while they decided how to handle the Monarch's awakening without inadvertently accelerating it.
Do it now.
Do it before he absorbs anything else.
Jeren stood on his elevated platform and looked down at the transformed figure of the man who had, twenty minutes ago, been simply another interesting tournament participant. White skin. Lengthened dark hair. Eyes that were seeing too much.
The gods were afraid.
