The following morning, Rianor made his way toward the western wing of Iron Hearth Castle. His pace was deliberate, unhurried. He had no pressing agenda today, save for one crucial task: a meeting with Riven.
The corridors of the western wing were quieter than usual. The crystal lamps mounted on the walls emitted a dim, flickering glow. Rianor passed several heavy teak doors before finally coming to a halt in front of his brother's private quarters.
He knocked. Twice. Softly.
A moments later, the door swung open.
Elena stood at the threshold, cradling Kaelven in her arms. The infant beamed upon seeing Rianor, his tiny hands reaching out into the air, fingers grasping at nothing as if trying to catch the light.
"Rianor," Elena greeted him warmly. Her eyes were kind, her smile genuine. "A rare visit. Please, come in."
