As she entered the large domed hall, it seemed as if every duty guard stared at her. Zetta hovered at the edge of the grid, most likely processing the new set of letters. She probably hadn’t even dispatched the healer yet. Star took a seat on the first available bench by the door, ignoring the apprehensive glances, and buried her head in her hands. With her eyes shut, she rubbed the temples of her forehead, trying to make sense of all the commotion and the raging emotions overwhelming her senses. When she finally did look up, the guards still shot glances at her over their shoulders. Star weaved a hand through her translucent hair then smoothed her cloak, making sure it was tied straight. Did she look disheveled? The atmosphere of the usually bustling room was tentative and hushed. People crept back and forth, silently performing their daily duties. No errant conversations were struck up and no easy laughs or wayward smiles were exchanged.
