The sky was still dark when Kyrian left the house and walked to the small lake hidden in the forest.
The surface reflected the sky that was beginning to brighten. He leaned forward, staring at his own reflection.
The child had disappeared.
In his place, a fifteen-year-old youth had emerged. His shoulders were broad, his body defined by the routine of training. The technique of the Royal Order had been cultivated to the limit. His muscles held a hidden strength, etched into every line of his flesh.
His face carried the beauty inherited from his mother. Like her masculine version. A sharp, fine jaw. His black hair, straight and long, fell over his shoulders and back. But what truly caught attention were his eyes.
Red as deep crimson crystals, glowing with a cold, hypnotic serenity.
They did not look like human eyes, but to Kyrian, they were like a gift. A bond given by the woman who gave him life.
