Draven stood completely still, his divine composure cracking under Jack's verbal assault.
Each word seemed to strike him with force that transcended physical damage, cutting through millennia of careful rationalization to expose truths he'd been avoiding since Sarin's disappearance.
Death moved forward slightly, his massive armored form positioning itself as if to intervene or mediate. "Jack, perhaps you should..."
"No," Jack interrupted, his gaze snapping to Death with intensity that made even the primordial god pause.
"Let him stand on his own legs. Don't help someone who can't stand on their own, or they'll never be able to accomplish anything. If Draven wants to be my patron god, if he wants me to trust him with guidance and blessing and whatever cosmic role he's grooming me for, then he needs to stop hiding behind shame and actually do something about the threats he claims concern him."
