Valdren still stood in the midst of the crowd, a bright smile painted across his face. To anyone watching, he looked like a beacon of strength, basking in the adoration of the people around him. But inside, it was nothing like that.
He could hear their thoughts—hundreds of them flooding his mind all at once, tangled threads of admiration, gratitude, confusion, awe. And yet, even as he stood there among them, forcing himself to stay, forcing that smile to remain… he felt nothing.
No warmth. No joy. No connection to the cheer that filled the air.
He had killed Forn.
The man who had taken his daughter from him. The one who'd robbed him of the only thing he had left to protect.
And still… nothing.
There was no relief, no catharsis, not even a flicker of satisfaction at avenging her death.
Just emptiness.
The same hollow feeling he'd carried since the day she died.
'I need to leave this place' he thought. 'I'll use the ancient artifact as an excuse… and go.'
