"I see," Pollux murmured quietly.
Then, his expression shifted.
Witnessing that sudden change, Azriel's eye widened in disbelief. His face twisted, blood boiling in outrage.
How dare he?
How dare Pollux look at him with such an expression—one of pity!?
Strangely, however, Pollux turned away, stepping toward one of the few books still intact—a thick tome bound in faded crimson, its blank cover coated with dust. Gently picking it up, he traced the dust thoughtfully with his fingers, wearing an expression filled with quiet melancholy.
"You were researching runes, weren't you?"
"You should already know the answer," Azriel spat hoarsely.
"We never truly named them anything," Pollux continued softly, unbothered by Azriel's hostility.
"But perhaps 'Void Runes' and 'God Runes' truly are fitting names—names you yourself bestowed upon them, Son of Death."
Pollux turned back to Azriel with the same wistful, distant expression.
