Argolaith didn't answer right away.
The room was quiet, tension subtle but unmistakable—like the air before a storm that hadn't yet decided if it would break.
Vel Raelis stood tall, his arms relaxed at his sides, but his gaze sharp, analytical. He wasn't just curious—he was measuring. Judging. Anira Vale leaned slightly to one side, her fingers brushing the hem of her robe in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. She didn't blink much. Keson looked between the two of them and Argolaith with a faint, nervous smile.
"So?" Vel said again, stepping farther into the room. "That cube—what is it?"
Argolaith followed his gaze to the object resting calmly near the center of the chamber, hovering a few inches above a stabilized glyph etched into the air. The cube rotated slowly, silent and steady, still holding the impossible presence it always had.
"I made it," Argolaith replied simply.
That answer didn't satisfy Vel, not really. His brow lifted a fraction.
"Made it out of what?"
