The throne room did not fall silent.
It grew heavy.
Torches still burned along the stone pillars. The Spirit Stone still pulsed faintly behind the throne, its inner light crawling slowly through the veins of rock like trapped lightning. But the air itself thickened — as if the hall had been submerged in invisible water.
Caelumn swallowed.
Each breath took effort now. Not painful — not yet — but dense, like drawing air through deep fog.
Momon had not moved.
He sat upon the stone throne as if it were part of him — massive frame relaxed, one arm resting on the carved armrest, thick fingers loosely curled. His spirit markings glowed faintly beneath his skin, slow and steady like buried fire.
Turak stood beside him, arms folded, silver markings dim and contained — his pressure controlled.
Momon's was not.
It rolled outward naturally, not violent, not focused — simply existing — and existence itself bent around it.
Brenner shifted his feet. Sweat beaded along his temples. He bowed again, deeper than before.
"Chief Momon," he said carefully. "You sent for us."
Momon did not answer Brenner immediately.
His eyes remained on Caelumn.
Not sharply.
Not angrily.
But with the slow, patient interest of something deciding whether prey was worth the chase.
"You bring a stranger into my land," Momon said at last.
His voice was calm — but it carried weight, as if each word pressed down into bone.
"A stranger the sea itself did not finish."
Brenner's throat tightened.
"Yes, Chief," he said carefully. "We found him barely breathing on the shore. He was alone. Near death. We brought him in because—"
"Because you pitied him," Momon interrupted mildly.
Brenner bowed his head. "Because he was dying."
Momon's fingers tapped once against the throne arm.
Tap.
"The sea does not return what it does not intend," he said. "Every survivor carries a reason."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"And reasons carry danger."
Brenner swallowed. "He remembers nothing, Chief. Not his home. Not his people. Not even his own name. He does not know who he is."
Caelumn tried to speak.
No sound came.
The pressure in the room had thickened — subtle, invisible — but it sat on his chest like a stone. His tongue felt heavy. His breath shallow.
Momon noticed.
A faint curve touched his mouth.
"Hmm."
He raised a single finger.
Not as a threat.
As a command.
The pressure sharpened — not crushing — but pointed. Focused.
The boy's knees trembled.
Momon's eyes locked onto his.
"Look at me," he said.
The boy forced his gaze upward.
"Now," Momon said quietly,
"Who are you, why are you in my village and where are you from?"
The boy swallowed.
His throat felt dry. His lungs burned faintly beneath the invisible weight in the room.
"…Caelumn, I am Caelumn" he said.
The name sounded strange even to his own ears — like a word borrowed from someone else's life.
Brenner's head snapped toward him.
"What?" he breathed.
Momon did not speak at first.
He watched him.
Measured him.
Then his gaze sharpened.
"My sources tell me," Momon said slowly, "that you remember nothing. Not your home. Not your blood. Not your face in the water."
He lifted a finger.
The pressure struck.
Not like before — this time it was focused. Sharpened. It drove straight into Caelumn's chest, stealing his breath, forcing his spine to bow.
"And yet," Momon continued calmly,
"you remember your name."
Caelumn's knees trembled.
His vision blurred at the edges.
Still — he did not fall.
His teeth clenched. His hands curled into fists.
"I—" His voice shook, but he forced the words out.
"I didn't remember it. She gave it to me. Lila. She said my eyes looked like the sky over the marsh at dawn. She said… I should have a name, even if I didn't know who I was yet."
His breath hitched.
"She said no one should walk without one."
The pressure wavered.
Brenner stared at him, stunned.
Momon studied him closely.
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
Then — slowly — a smirk curved across his face.
Not because of the name.
But because he felt nothing.
No spirit circulation.
No resonance.
No trained flow.
An empty vessel — yet one that had just resisted special-grade pressure on instinct alone.
"…I see," Momon murmured.
The pressure vanished.
Caelumn sucked in a sharp breath and nearly staggered — but he stayed standing.
Momon let out a low, amused laugh.
He leaned back into his throne.
You are interesting," he said softly. "Even first-grade adepts struggle when I release this much pressure — yet you're still standing, and you don't possess a trace of spiritual energy."
His eyes glinted faintly.
"My instincts tell me you mean no harm. I don't believe there's any hidden motive behind your presence here… only a shipwreck that carried you to my shores."
He waved a dismissive hand.
"You may go. Both of you."
Brenner bowed deeply. "Thank you, Chief."
Caelumn followed a half-second later — slower — still catching his breath.
As they turned to leave, Momon's laughter rumbled softly through the hall.
"If you prove to be a threat," he added lightly,
"I will kill you myself."
Then he smiled.
But not unkindly.
What a crazy guy… I better not get on his bad side, Caelumn thought, his stomach twisting with unease.