[The Vossmer's Estate]
Kaelissa strode out of the Grand Hall with her usual precision, her silver hair trailing behind her like the icy wind that seemed to follow her every step.
She didn't glance back at her brothers, who walked a few paces behind her. Her mind was elsewhere—focused entirely on one thing.
Elion.
Her hand clenched involuntarily as memories of their sparring match flashed in her mind. The way his strikes met hers with equal ferocity.
The way his cold precision mirrored her own. A boy, no older than seven, had stood against her—a Martial Ancestor—and fought as though her title meant nothing.
Kaelrin followed at a leisurely pace, his boots clicking softly against the polished floor. His usual smirk lingered on his lips, but his eyes glinted with a sharper edge.
