Glen stepped into the room, brushing past Finala, who was perched nervously on a wooden display shelf in the corner. From there, she had a clear view of Etien, still fast asleep, curled up like a child.
Finala flinched the moment Glen entered. She was scared. Scared because she hadn't managed to convince Void to come to the palace. And now, even after Glen had arrived, he didn't say a word to her. He just walked straight to Etien's bedside, gently ran his fingers through the Duke's hair, and silently prayed he wouldn't wake up.
The air turned thick with tension. Glen didn't speak. The room was dead quiet, eerily so. No breeze slipped through the cracked window, no flicker from the candles. It was as if the whole space was sealed off by magic, keeping the outside world at bay.
Finala, desperate to avoid another misunderstanding, or worse, Glen's anger, fluttered closer. She hovered beside the bed, eyes locked on the emperor, who hadn't looked away from Etien once.
