[Everheart Manor—Late Night]
The room had returned to a fragile calm. Elysia's breathing was soft and even in the blankets, her small chest rising and falling like a delicate drum. Yet the air between Lucein and Silas was thick, heavy with unspoken words.
Lucein held the comb mid-air, brushing through Silas's silver hair with a gentle rhythm, but his dark eyes never left Silas's face. "You've been gone… six months," he said softly, voice laced with restrained worry. "Six months, and you couldn't send a word?"
Silas flinched slightly, his hand brushing instinctively over his chest as if to shield his secrets. "I… I didn't want to worry you," he murmured, the soft lamplight reflecting in his deep eyes. "It wasn't safe… not for you, not for Elysia."
