Klaus tucked Elaria back into Elisabeth's arms as evening shadows stretched across the garden. The afternoon had passed in a blur of simple moments—feeding his sister, listening to his mother's stories about estate life during his absence, sharing quiet observations about how their family had changed and grown.
"Stay tonight," Elisabeth said. It wasn't quite a request, wasn't quite a command. "Your old room is exactly as you left it."
Klaus hesitated. The Eastern Tower had become his sanctuary, a place where his enhanced nature felt natural rather than overwhelming. But something in his mother's tone made the decision for him.
"I'd like that."
His childhood bedroom felt smaller than memory suggested, though nothing had actually changed. The same wooden desk where he'd struggled through lessons. The same narrow bed where he'd dreamed of adventures beyond estate walls. The same window that looked out over gardens where he'd first practiced sword forms with desperate determination.
