Max stopped in his tracks and met Elliot's gaze directly.
The golden-haired elf stood with royal confidence, his posture straight, arms behind his back, chin slightly raised like he was looking down at someone beneath him. His group of elven retainers stood behind him in silent solidarity, their auras cold and sharp.
Max narrowed his eyes, studying them.
Something was off.
He looked closer—not at their strength, but at their reaction to him. Or rather… the lack of it.
Strange…
Earlier, when he'd stood beside Lenavira, the surrounding elves had reacted immediately to his presence. Their blood stirred, their expressions had shifted, their instincts felt him, even when he hadn't released a hint of power.
But these elves? The ones following Elliot?
Nothing.
No subtle tension.
No subconscious reverence.
No unease in their stance or eyes.
