At the expiration of the two agreed weeks, Vacuros and Umbrazel were standing tall at the front of the entrance of the castle, their outlines shadowy against the shining backdrop of the enormous structure.
Glistening with brilliance, the castle stood like one colossal crystal kissed by gold as golden streaks of light tumbled upon it. The air stood still, carrying on itself unsaid expectations, while the duo remained awaiting Nyxander. Umbrazel, seizing the moment, placed a firm but gentle hand on Vacuros' shoulder, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of wisdom.
"You need to stop acting immature," Umbrazel began, his tone firm but fatherly, like the steady chime of a distant bell. "You've got to rise above that. Obsession won't take you anywhere-it only clouds the path ahead. Just do what you do best, execute your task with precision and clarity." His words were left hanging in the air, like a warm breeze cutting through the coolness of dawn.
