CHAPTER 48
The silence snapped. Lucian straightened slowly, the pressure in his chest sharpening into something colder. It wasn't pain. It wasn't fear. It was an alarm.
The hall chamber felt suddenly too small, the air stale and heavy, like a tomb sealed too long. The Council members were still staring at him, frozen in the wake of his outburst, but they no longer mattered.
Their voices—their very existences—faded into white noise. This wasn't impatience. This wasn't irritation. This was the same instinct that had dragged him out of battlefields seconds before an ambush sprang.
The same warning that had saved him from blades dipped in holy poison. It was a predator's sense, honed over centuries.
And it was screaming.
Lucian reached inward again—not gently this time. He forced his awareness against the bond with brutal precision, tearing at the muted veil that had settled over it.
