After Reiner finished speaking—after his voice, steady and annoyingly reassuring, drifted through the tense air like some divine decree—I could almost feel the atmosphere shift. It was subtle at first, like the faint loosening of a clenched fist, but then it spread.
The cursed children, who only moments ago looked like they were bracing for slaughter, began whispering to one another in hushed but eager tones. Little knots of conversation sprouted everywhere, murmurs rising and falling like restless waves.
I stood there, watching them from the corner of my eye, and honestly, I had to admit—Elijah had a way with words. After what felt like an eternity of back-and-forth deliberation, heated exchanges, and exaggerated hand gestures, they finally came to a consensus.
"Okay, we all agree."
