The room was quiet, the only sound being the rhythmic breathing of Alaric as he lay motionless in the chair. His face, usually sharp and focused, was now softened by the depths of sleep, drawn into the dangerous world of the dream. Morgana stood by his side, her eyes filled with worry, while Maria and Lucy hovered nearby, unable to tear their gazes away from Alaric.
Morgana had explained the risks of what Alaric was attempting, but even so, none of them could have been fully prepared for what might happen. Alaric was strong, but the forces he was dealing with—both in the dream and in his own awakening powers—were unpredictable.
Lucy fidgeted nervously, her small hands clutching the edge of Morgana's robe. "Will big brother be okay?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper.
Morgana looked down at her granddaughter, her expression softening for a moment. "He will, Lucy. Your brother is strong. But we must give him time."
