Silence.
Liam stood in the center of the courtyard. His grey eyes were the same color. His face the same shape. But something fundamental had changed.
Something that couldn't be measured in stats or percentages but was obvious to anyone who looked.
He walked toward Orin.
The Grand Commander lay in a spreading pool of his own blood. Breathing still. Heart still beating. Divine vitality keeping him alive despite wounds that would have killed anything else instantly.
His golden eyes tracked Liam's approach. No fear in them, he had only tired acceptance.
"Azrakul," Orin whispered.
"Yes." Liam's voice was that wrong, ancient thing. But permanent now. Not an act. Not a performance.
Just truth. "I am."
"The... reports... were wrong."
"They usually are."
Orin tried to laugh. Coughed blood instead.
"I volunteered. Thought I... could test you. Determine... if you were real."
"And now you know."
"Yes." His eyes held Liam's. "Was I... at least... worthy?"
