Yet, his eyes, those clear mirrors into his soul, could not disguise the storm of tumultuous emotions writhing beneath the surface.
His heart ached for the lost twin, for the balance that had been disrupted. As his gaze returned to Anara, a soft touch of resolution resonated in his expression.
An oppressive silence hung heavy in the room, punctuated periodically by the subtle murmurs of incantations and the quiet flurry of healers tending to Sophia.
The crackling of a nearby fireplace struggled to provide some warmth to the ice-cold tension that lingered around the room.
Suddenly, the door creaked open and in walked Hartington, Elford, and Cantlyn, their heads hanging low as if carrying the weight of their shame.
They walked gingerly, as if treading on thin ice, careful not to cause any additional disturbances. Submitting themselves before Ragnar, their bodies shook with apprehension, reflecting their awareness of their grave error.
