"What do you mean?" Alexander asked, his voice unsteady as he stared at the empty cup in his hand.
A strange heat pulsed through his veins, radiating outward like waves of molten energy.
His aching joints no longer throbbed, and his once-weak limbs now felt firm and alive.
For the first time in decades, his heart did not pound with effort but with vigor.
It felt as though the years had melted away, returning him to the prime of his youth.
Riley smiled faintly, his eyes glinting with something his father could not yet understand.
"You'll know soon enough, Father," he said softly. His tone held no arrogance, only certainty—a certainty that unsettled Alexander more than any confident boast ever could.
"Go on now. I still have work to do."
Before his father could question him further, Riley moved gracefully toward his mother and leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.
