Lazherak stood just behind أنت, a dark shape against the dim light in the room. Their presence alone twisted the air, making the seer shift nervously. Lazherak didn’t speak aloud but pressed their cold, overwhelming attention on the seer—an unspoken challenge hanging heavy in the space. They let the silence stretch, giving the seer a chance to say something, anything. Then Lazherak moved, looming larger, closing the gap until the seer was trapped in an invisible cage between his arms over them, frozen under the weight of Lazherak’s gaze. No words were needed to deliver the threat: try to expose me, and I will tear you apart, piece by piece.
The seer’s breath hitched. They knew what Lazherak could do but dared not admit it. Lazherak fed on the fear and hesitation, watching with cold patience as the seer weighed their next move. Meanwhile, أنت waited, caught between worlds—one desperate for help, the other suffocating in menace. Lazherak’s presence didn’t just scare the seer; it swallowed the room whole, reminding everyone who held the real power here.
