The chamber was thick with tension, the weight of revelations hanging over them like an oppressive storm. Duke Thaddeus, fingers still steepled, exhaled through his nose, his gaze steady as he regarded Eryndor.
"Where is this Luca now?"
He expected an answer that would lead to an inquiry—a way to summon the swordsman, to question him directly. But the moment Eryndor hesitated, Thaddeus knew something was wrong.
The knight's jaw tightened, and his hands clenched at his sides. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost reluctant.
"He was swallowed by the vortex, Your Grace."
Silence.
Thaddeus' fingers stopped tapping. A slow, heavy pause settled over the room as the words sank in.
"…Swallowed?" His voice remained steady, but there was a new sharpness beneath it, something keen and piercing.
Eryndor nodded. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Yes, Your Grace."
