Lucas stepped forward, his eyes meeting Lyerin's with a mixture of caution and steel. He drew in a deep breath before asking, "Chieftain, is there a possibility for your tribe's power to be shared permanently if one is willing to—"
"No." Lyerin's answer came swift and final, like a door slammed shut. His gaze was a cold storm, his expression devoid of warmth. "There is no such possibility."
The air around them crackled with unspoken tension. A ripple of unease spread through the ranks of soldiers, but they were far from deterred. One of them, a young man with desperate eyes and a voice too loud for the situation, stepped forward.
"But, Chieftain, if we were to join your tribe permanently, would we all be granted these abilities? Could we revive every day? Adapt to every environment?"
Lyerin's jaw clenched visibly, but he said nothing.
His silence only emboldened the others.
A woman with a scar tracing her jaw spoke next.
