The Lord remained silent for so long that even Danton, who usually treated silence as an empty space graciously provided for him to fill with his own voice, allowed it to remain untouched.
The Lord's avatar stood at the far end of the private hall beneath a haze of gold-white radiance, six seraphic wings resting behind him in perfect symmetry while light flowed continuously through every feather.
The manifestation possessed none of the frailty of an ordinary projection.
Even though his true body existed elsewhere, the Essence compressed into this avatar carried enough weight to make the ancient stone beneath his feet hum softly whenever he moved. Engraved formations ran throughout the walls and ceiling, built by generations of Heavenchild ancestors to withstand powers that would have reduced ordinary estates to smoking holes in the earth, yet the entire chamber still seemed to shrink slightly whenever the Lord's expression hardened.
