Tremlin stood rigid, his jaw clenched and hands at his sides. He was trembling, though he refused to admit it to himself. It was not fear that caused it, at least not the kind he was willing to acknowledge. It was the pressure of divine presence, the suffocating weight of being surrounded by so many who had been marked by the gods.
He had offended them all, including the young woman who claimed to be favored by Eldara herself. That fact alone should have shattered him, but it didn't. Pride held him together. Pride, and the stubborn belief that no matter what blessings these outsiders had been granted, they were still just that. Outsiders.
Servants, apostles, envoys. Fine. But not equals.
He did not bow to mortals, no matter how chosen they claimed to be.
Still, he held his tongue. Because for the first time in many years, he did not know what would happen if he spoke again.
And in the silence that followed, a question burned quietly in the back of his mind.
