LEADER ALBANUS POV
In the quiet sanctuary of the ancestral hall, where ancient tapestries hung like silent witnesses to history, I sat across from my son, Boris. The dim light cast long shadows on the walls, adding an almost somber ambiance to our conversation. It was a rare moment of calm, a pause in the relentless march of time that had been marked by both triumph and tragedy. Today, I needed to unveil truths long buried, truths that had shaped our family and our world.
Boris, his expression a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, regarded me with eyes that reflected both his youth and the weight of his lineage. The weight of the past hung heavy in the air, and I could sense his unease, the unspoken questions that had lingered in his mind for years.
