The echo of Harren's footsteps faded, leaving me in the sudden, heavy silence of the gallery. I stood frozen, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs, the chill of his final words seeping into my bones. *Spirit can be broken.* The air felt thick, contaminated by his presence. I had held my ground, I had even landed a blow of my own, but the encounter left me feeling unclean, as if I'd been touched by something poisonous.
I took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady myself, to regain the composure that had seen me through the confrontation. It was over. I had won this round. But the victory felt hollow, a fragile shield against the certainty of his next move.
