The throne room was silent, save for the gentle hum of the protective wards flickering along the walls. The faint, rhythmic sound was like a distant heartbeat, steady and unyielding. Arman stood by the massive map etched into the stone floor, his eyes scanning its contours with practiced precision. The glowing lines of the map shifted subtly, as though alive, tracing the kingdom's borders and its contested edges. The flickering lights cast long, wavering shadows, exaggerating his pensive stance.
Behind him, Tydarin paced, his restless energy filling the cavernous space. His heavy footfalls echoed, a sharp counterpoint to the room's stillness, and his broad shoulders seemed to brush against the weight of the very air. Occasionally, his wings twitched, a subtle reminder of the power he had kept restrained during his years of distant isolation.
"Brother," Tydarin said, his voice a mix of curiosity and impatience, "you're thinking too much. Again. I can almost hear the gears grinding in that head of yours."
Arman didn't respond immediately, his hand hovering over the Shadowborne territories etched on the map. His fingers traced their darkened lines before moving toward the kingdom's heart, as though weighing invisible scales.
Tydarin came to a stop beside him, leaning dramatically over the map. He let out an exaggerated sigh, his voice teasing. "Do you ever stop brooding? You're going to turn into one of those old relics Father keeps around. Stoic, unreadable, boring."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Arman's lips. "And yet, you never seem to grow up. Still poking the dragon, are we?"
Tydarin grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the light. "Someone has to keep you from turning into stone. I've missed this, you know—being back here, seeing you like this. Ruling, plotting, brooding... It's almost nostalgic."
Arman straightened, finally turning to face his brother. "Nostalgia isn't what we need right now. The world is shifting, Tydarin. Father feels it, and so do I. This isn't just about the Shadowborne. The old ways aren't a tactic—they're a necessity."
Tydarin's expression softened, though his mischievous glint remained. "And here I thought you'd finally embraced this peaceful life you've built. It's been a long time since I've seen you like this, Arman. Determined. Almost ruthless."
"I've always been determined," Arman replied, his voice firm. "Ruthlessness... that was your role. You thrived in chaos, Tydarin. You still do."
Tydarin laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the room. "Oh, come now. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it, even a little. The rush, the conquest, the fire in your veins? Don't lie to me, brother. I saw it in you back then. You were just better at hiding it."
Arman's gaze didn't waver. "And you were better at indulging it. That's why Father sent you away—to keep you from burning the kingdom down in your eagerness."
The air between them grew heavy, though not with anger. It was the weight of shared memories—victories, losses, and the unspoken understanding that they were two sides of the same coin.
"I'll admit," Tydarin said after a moment, his voice quieter, "those years away... they taught me patience. Maybe even perspective. But I never stopped missing this—standing beside you, planning our next move. I was made for chaos, brother, but chaos is nothing without purpose. And you? You've always been the purpose."
Arman studied him, his sharp eyes searching for any trace of insincerity. There was none.
"We'll need that fire of yours," Arman said finally. "But it has to be controlled. The old ways aren't about mindless destruction—they're about survival. If we're to return to them, it must be with clarity and unity."
Tydarin nodded, a rare seriousness settling over him. "Then you have me, brother. As always."
Arman placed a hand on Tydarin's shoulder, a gesture of both trust and authority. "Together, we'll see this through. For the kingdom. For Father. And for the future."
Tydarin smirked, the mischief creeping back into his eyes. "Just promise me one thing: when the time comes, let me have the first swing. It's been far too long since I've stretched my wings properly."
Arman allowed himself a small chuckle. "We'll see."
As they stood side by side, the flickering light of the wards cast their twin shadows onto the map. The glowing lines pulsed brighter for a fleeting moment, as if acknowledging the weight of their resolve. Whatever lay ahead, the brothers would face it together—two forces of nature, each bringing their own strength to the fight.