Ilyrana hesitated, her voice soft and uncertain.
"Mother, is it true? Is Father… truly in such dire condition?"
Queen Loreleia's expression darkened, the weight of reality clouding her features. She exhaled a long, weary breath before nodding slowly.
"Yes, my dear. Your father has fallen gravely ill. It has been many days, and no recovery has shown itself. On the contrary, his condition worsens with each passing hour."
Her voice trembled as she spoke, and the glimmer of hope that had sparked in her eyes upon seeing Ilyrana began to waver.
"But now," Loreleia continued, her voice gaining strength as she placed a hand gently on Ilyrana's cheek. "Now that you are here, my hope stirs anew. Please, Ilyrana… see him. Speak to him."
Ilyrana's lips pressed together, and her gaze darted away. Something in her posture betrayed a reluctance, a hesitation that even her composed facade couldn't mask. Queen Loreleia noticed immediately.
