Soren's blood didn't just feel cold; it felt as though it had turned to slush, jagged and abrasive, scraping against the interior of his veins.
He stood paralyzed, the world outside this cramped, frozen cell blurring into insignificance.
His face, usually a fortress of marble and indifference, betrayed him in the most primal way.
His pupils blown wide, the slight quiver of a muscle in his jaw, the way his breath hitched... it was a symphony of confirmation.
He couldn't hide it. The truth was written in the very way he recoiled from her words, as if she had struck him with a physical blow.
Vetra watched him with a predatory stillness, her eyes scanning every micro-expression with the precision of a jeweler.
She saw the flickers of horror, the dawning realization, and the desperate, futile attempt to rebuild his walls.
Her smile didn't just return; it widened, splitting her face in a look of triumphant vindication.
