As he rose from the dinner table, Aurelion forced a polite smile onto his face. "The meal was wonderful, Brynja, Sigrid. Thank you for your efforts."
Sigrid smiled warmly as usual. Brynja, however, was more observant. "Are you going to your room, Aurelion?"
"Yes. I'll rest a bit. It was a long day." Without waiting for another word, he turned his back and headed for the stairs.
His steps were mechanical as he ascended. His mind was churning with the day's events. Viggo, the clans' move, Linnea's face, Vespera's threat, and the strange moment of triumph that followed...
But despite all this intensity, there was a strange, emptiness in his chest. He wasn't angry, he wasn't scared, he wasn't even truly satisfied. Just... empty. As if everything had happened behind a veil of mist.
He entered his room. He walked to his bed and let himself fall backward onto it. His arms spread out to his sides, his eyes fixed on a point in the darkness of the ceiling.
