Ignatius's brows knitted into a knot of flame. Gerald's fingers froze upon his beard. Every Earthfire Pavilion elder bore the same heavy look.
Winslow's warning weighed more than stone. If the prophecy proved true, level eleven would soon face its own apocalypse.
Ignatius cleared his throat, voice rough with hidden worry. "Jared... You have crossed blades with Malevolent Path Hall, and with the man that became the Soul-Devouring Puppet... Tell us, what is your judgment?"
Every eye circled back to Jared.
He released a slow breath that seemed to draw all tension toward his lungs before letting it drain away. Then he stepped into the center of the hall, meeting faces etched with despair, fear, and a fragile, desperate hope.
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