The press conference felt like walking into the lion’s den. Flashing lights assaulted Arthur's eyes, a cacophony of questions hammered against his ears, and the air crackled with a tense anticipation that threatened to suffocate him. He stood behind the podium, the Crucible banner a grotesque tapestry behind him, feeling a cold knot of apprehension tighten in his stomach. Beside him, his reflection in Anya’s unwavering gaze offered a sliver of reassurance.