The doors to Mo Zenith's private study opened to reveal a space that perfectly balanced the authority of a sect leader with the warmth of a family patriarch. Ancient scrolls lined the walls alongside more modern communication equipment, while traditional tea settings occupied the same table as holographic displays showing sect operations.
Mo himself rose from behind his desk as we entered, and I was struck again by how much he'd grown into his role. The competitive young man I'd once trained alongside had become someone whose presence commanded immediate respect, though his face lit up with genuine warmth when he saw Seraphina.
"My daughter," he said with the kind of paternal affection that made something in my chest tighten with appreciation. Despite the formal circumstances that had brought us here, his first concern was clearly for Seraphina's wellbeing.
"Father," she replied, moving into his embrace with the easy grace of someone who'd never doubted her place in his heart.
