[House Veyrhold—Western Hall—Late Afternoon]
The summons spread like wildfire through dry stone: no raised voice, no repeated command, and yet every Zahryssar within the estate felt it.
They gathered in the western hall—one by one, then in clusters, and finally, in silence.
No one spoke loudly; no one dared because the air itself had changed. Zeramet sat at the head of the hall. One leg crossed over the other, posture relaxed—almost careless.
Almost.
A thin stream of smoke curled from the pipe between his fingers, rising in slow spirals that seemed far too calm for the weight pressing against the room.
Before him stood Sharukh, Raevahn, Iru, Captain Varesh, and Naburash. All still, all aware, and all waiting.
"…Where," Zeramet asked at last, his voice low and even, "is Physician Naram."
No one answered, not immediately, because before the silence could stretch, footsteps approached. Physician Naram entered, bowing deeply, his breath slightly uneven.
