A small glass emerged in Xion's hand. Without hesitation, he raised it to his lips and gulped it down.
Warmth exploded in his chest, slowly traveling to his nearly frozen limbs. Even the trembling in his legs ceased.
His heart, which had been fluttering like a caged bird, steadied into a regular rhythm.
He drew a long, slow breath, feeling the oxygen fill his lungs to the brim.
Then, in full view of the congregation, he pulled back the hood from his head.
From each corner of the hall, heavy gasps erupted, like cracks splitting through ice.
And like a predator spotting prey, Talia's golden eyes lit up the moment she saw him.
Then came that familiar smile—radiant, and yet poisonous.
With an elegant wave of her hand, she gestured toward the guards. "Bring him forward."
Before the guards could even move a step, Xion waved his hand in the air, dismissing them as one would to the lowly servant.
