Camlen's narrowed eyes gleamed with a sharp, suspicious light as the strangers continued to speak, one after the other. Flattery, charm, appeals to his ego—none of it masked the core of his concern. His lips pressed into a thin line, his ancient, weathered features hardening with every word.
His eyes burned with a sudden intensity, and a thread of energy crackled in the air, causing the maze's walls to ripple faintly as if in response to his rising anger.
Camlen's sneer deepened, his posture rigid as if bracing for the betrayal he was certain would come.
His eyes blazed with suspicion, but beneath it was something else—exhaustion, perhaps even fear. He paused, his breath heavy, and spoke in a low, dangerous voice.
So...he began slowly, his voice like the rustle of dried leaves,
you're not friends of Elgar'nan, you say?His gaze flickered over each of them, lingering on Megara's outstretched hand, then on the cat, who continued its impudent observation.
And why should I believe that? What proof do you offer, beyond your oh-so-sweet words and innocent faces? How do I know you're not here *for* me, sent by the All-Father himself to flush me from this sanctuary I've bled to protect? Your ‘companion’ seems to think you are harmless, but enchantments can be fooled, spirits misled.
His eyes burned with a sudden intensity, and a thread of energy crackled in the air, causing the maze's walls to ripple faintly as if in response to his rising anger.
You come, uninvited, into my maze, my refuge—**my** creation. You *could* be assassins, spies, hunters seeking the last of the unbowed. You may claim to help, but who am I to trust that? Just because you’ve danced through a few traps doesn’t make you saints, and I have no interest in entertaining the whims of those too foolish to recognize a real danger when it stands before them.
Camlen's sneer deepened, his posture rigid as if bracing for the betrayal he was certain would come.
Perhaps Elgar'nan sent you *because* I have eluded him for so long. You claim you aren't his servants, but what if he sent you as bait? What if he knew *exactly* how to tempt a tired, paranoid mage into lowering his guard with your tales of resistance? After all, what's more convincing than a group of strangers offering exactly the words an enemy longs to hear?
His eyes blazed with suspicion, but beneath it was something else—exhaustion, perhaps even fear. He paused, his breath heavy, and spoke in a low, dangerous voice.
So tell me, intruders. What if you're wrong? What if it's *you* who have been lured here, not by some innocent purpose, but by the gods themselves, to bring me down? What if everything you say is just what I want to believe?
10-19-2024, 12:23 PM
