Later that night, Morvakar stood at the balcony of Lord Lucivar's castle, his broad silhouette swallowed by the shadows of the arching stone. The cold night air rushed around him. Below him, the city pulsed—lights glimmering, alleyways twisting. It should have felt like home. Once upon a time, it had been. He had been the Royal Protector, the keeper of the old archives, the man entrusted with safeguarding not only the kingdom's history but its very heart. And yet, as he leaned against the balustrade, all he could feel was the hollow ache of loss.