Azaron's golden-colored eyes met Emperor Cyrvexis Lux Vanthelmor's calm red ones, and a silence seemed to pass between them for a moment as none of them spoke, the atmosphere thick with restrained intent and unspoken understanding. But a voice broke through the silence; it was Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor who spoke, his interruption cutting across the stillness with quiet fragility.
"Father," his voice was weak as he leaned against the tree, his body bearing the marks of battle and exhaustion, his breathing uneven, yet his eyes remained calm, as though he had always expected his father to come, as though this moment had long been foreseen in his mind.
