Vaelith leans forward, elbows propped on the table, fingers steepled, her sharp golden eyes glimmering with something. Was it amusement or mild annoyance? No one can tell.

  "Ah." She said calmly. "So you're volunteering to be the lead trainer for the new recruits."

  Orvyn cuts her off. "I did not volunteer to be anything."

  Vaelith hums a random note. "Too bad. I've already decided it."

  Orvyn opens his mouth to protest, but a deep rumbling from the wall makes him pause—the sound is dangerously close to a chuckle.

  "...I'll get the rope." Elaris says from wherever he is. His voice is soft, but there's a clear edge of amusement there.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Orvyn wants to fight, but decides not to. He knows two things:

  One, he was too unbothered to defend himself and stop this.

  Two, Elaris would take absolute joy in chasing him across the realm with a rope and a stoic expression. So instead, he sighs, runs his fingers through his dark, flaming hair, and stares at Vaelith.

  "You are a mortal. How are you this terrifying?"

  Vaelith tilts her head slightly. "Because some creatures don't need to show power. To show absolute authority."

  Her eyes flicker to the still-open portal. Orvyn tracks her gaze and lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle that shakes the wall even more than Elaris did.

  "Touché." He says. He knew this would happen, yet did it anyway. He looks at Vaelith with a familiar gaze. Absolute power shimmering in his dark abyssal eyes, and deep beneath them, a great respect.

  The silence stretches between them, speaking things that words could never convey. Fondness and mutual respect.

  "...I have the rope."

  Elaris says, already holding it.