Zavian knelt on the cold stone floor with his head bowed and hands pressed together as though in prayer. His silver hair glimmered faintly in the soft light of the candles around him. The faint hum of magic filled the room along the steady heartbeat of Alaric who has been put to sleep for the third day now.
His mind drifted to a memory long buried but never forgotten—a voice, soft yet desperate, trembling with a pain that had seared into his very soul.
"Destroy the book... Brother. Save my daughter. Do not let it take her back into this wretched world. Please... I am begging you."
The words were as vivid now as the moment Celeste had spoken them. Her golden hair matted with sweat while her luminous eyes dimmed as her life ebbed away.
Zavian's lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile
