Yan (entering the hall, wiping the sweat from her brow, staring at her son who has never grown): "How strange this palace is… like the heart of a frozen volcano. And you, my son… you look like a living statue, not a child."
Dandiren (stepping down from his small throne, approaching with calm steps, holding an old leather-bound book): "Welcome, Mother… the mountain does not burn those who master it. I did not choose this place at random—it listens to everything… it carries to me the breath of the earth, its pulse, even its tears."
Yan (sitting on a stone seat, removing her bow and setting it aside): "But it is also harsh… like the heart of fate that surrounds us. Tell me… what were you reading?"
Dandiren (opening the book, revealing pages filled with symbols and maps): "The History of the Sands… the House of Sthorius. They have moved at last and devoured the desert kingdom. What rages there is not war… it is a massacre. Blades consume men, and women are buried alive beneath the dunes."
Yan (clenching her fist, fury blazing in her blue eyes): "The heirs of the sands… they are sated by nothing but blood. Yet they have forgotten that the House of Ina still lives."
Dandiren (calmly, like a seasoned sage): "Perhaps they have not forgotten… perhaps they are waiting. But amid this ruin, something else draws my attention… my sister, Melin."
Yan (smiling with pride): "Melin… yes, I have heard she has become the Sword of the Isle. Whoever approaches its borders does not return alive."
Dandiren (gazing into the distance, as if his words rise from his heart rather than his mind): "She is more than that, Mother… she is like an unquenchable flame. The more I hear of her, the more I feel as though I stand before a force that nothing can stop. And I confess to you… I do not see her as merely a sister."
Yan (startled, staring at him with shock and concern): "What are you saying, my son?"
Dandiren (lowering his head slightly, then lifting his gaze with tearful eyes, his voice still steady): "I speak the truth. My heart… sees her as others do. I see in her what I have found in no one else. If my admiration is a sin, then so be it… but I cannot extinguish this fire."
Yan (closing her eyes for a moment, then rising and placing her hand on his childlike shoulder): "Do you know, Dandiren…? Perhaps the curse you were born with was not without purpose. To remain a child forever, and to love your sister as though she were a miracle from the heavens… that too is a trial from the divine."
Dandiren (with a sorrowful smile): "A trial… or a punishment?"
Yan (stepping away, gazing out from the palace window toward the blazing volcanoes): "There is no difference… in the end, we are all bound. You, Melin, Mikhel… even I. The only difference… is how we choose to face the fires of fate."
Dandiren (in a low voice, his eyes gleaming): "Mother… if they try to kill you, it is a declaration of war. Do not fear—you are not alone. You have six champions of your own blood and flesh; each of us is a blade unto himself. Let us go, gather my siblings, and wage this war as our ancestors did."
Yan (placing her hand firmly on his shoulder, her voice as steady as a mountain): "Then we shall go. I will gather you one by one… for the War of Resurrection is fought only with family."
Dandiren (his smile widening, his voice trembling with both childish excitement and ancient wisdom): "Then we will fight. This time, we will not flee. This time, Centaurus will know that the House of Ina was born to finish the war."