Alaric sat at the large dining table in Morgana's mansion, the remnants of their shared time in the garden still fresh in his mind. The lightheartedness from moments ago had slowly faded as he now faced something more serious. Morgana stood at the doorway, holding a worn leather-bound journal in her hands, her eyes clouded with the weight of the past.
"I've been holding onto this for many years," Morgana said softly, walking towards Alaric with deliberate steps. "It's time you have it."
Alaric looked at the journal, the leather darkened with age, the pages weathered and stained. He sensed the immense significance of what she was about to hand him. His fingers itched to take it, to uncover the secrets his father had left behind, but there was also a hesitance—an acknowledgment that this journal would change things.
