Vaeron's jaw ticked once before speaking. "The gods can't be fooled. Might I remind you what happens when Downwolders crosses the threshold of Blackvale?" he paused a second before adding. "Or has the hold lost its purpose,"
Downworlders? Lucrezia thought. Could that be the reason he teleported them here? Because there was some magic against kinds below them?
"Rest assured, Vaeron. Your absence doesn't change a thing in their making," It was Vaeloria who spoke at the other end of the table. "It is you whom we should be concerned about. It's no tale how seasons change them to be worse or less than before. Time does temper what was never meant to bend,"
A low murmur rippled around the table. Lucrezia stayed silent, though her pulse had begun to drum in her ears.
Downworlders. The word carried weight here, sharpened by old fear and older laws that made her question.
Vaeron's gaze cut to Vaeloria, sharp as flint. "Your concern is misplaced. You speak as if I've grown careless,"
