There was a long, deliberate silence after Vaelorin mentioned the letters. The flickering runes embedded in the floor pulsed faintly, casting the chamber in alternating bands of violet and shadow. The scent of ancient ash clung to the chamber, mingling with the subtle pressure of layered wards buried deep in the obsidian stone.
Then Vaelorin straightened in his seat.
His voice came steady, but laced with a rare undercurrent of zeal, measured enthusiasm wrapped in command, as though he had already envisioned a future unfolding precisely to plan.
"We have been presented with a rare alignment of opportunities," he said, each syllable reinforced with calculated conviction. "Your accord with Duchess Yvanna has opened doors no Shadowborn agent, no infiltration team could have achieved without open war. With her backing, the Synod may soon possess a permanent base of operations within Argyll."
