Winter/Sylthara~
I stood in the center of the opulent chamber, the kind of room that seemed to breathe its own quiet power. Morning light slipped through the gap in the heavy velvet curtains like cautious fingers, spreading a soft, golden wash over the rumpled bedsheets and the scattered traces of the night we'd shared—whispers of heat and vulnerability now cooling in the crisp air.
My brother's voice cut through the quiet, not with sound but with a whisper that curled like smoke inside my mind. "Sylthara, we have to talk. This is very important." The chill that followed was instant, coiling in my chest. I turned my head slightly, stealing a glance at him as I let my response unfurl across the mental bond, thin and trembling. "What is it, Vaelthor?"
