The god's glowing eyes flickered for a moment, just enough for Erend to see it. The green light in them stuttered—not dimmed or faded, but visibly shaken. It was barely a breath but in a being like Thar'Zul-Vekar, such a shift spoke volumes.
Erend couldn't read the god's mind and he sure that no one could, but he felt it in the air that his words had struck something. A memory maybe, a doubt, a fracture in whatever unyielding fury the god held.
Here's a revised version of that passage with improved clarity, flow, and tone while keeping your intent intact:
The truth was, Erend didn't know much about the mind of this ancient god. But one thing was clear—it wasn't stable. Whatever Thar'Zul-Vekar had become, their thoughts were twisted by time, isolation, and rage. That made them unpredictable and dangerous.
