In the grand hall of the Borgias Family estate, tension hung in the air like a thick, oppressive fog.
The estate, a sprawling mansion of gothic architecture, sat atop a hill, casting a shadow over the vast lands it controlled.
The halls, usually filled with servants and members of the Borgias lineage, now felt like a mausoleum.
The family had gathered, each of them filled with anxiety, whispers echoing through the chamber.
At the head of the long dining table sat Lyuzen Borgias, the current head of the family.
His eyes darted toward the grand doors every few seconds, as if expecting them to burst open at any moment with news.
His normally composed face was twisted with worry, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"Where is the ancestor?!" one of the younger members, a man named Julian, exclaimed, pacing back and forth near the fireplace.
His voice cracked with fear.
