[Rynthall Estate—Midnight—Lucein's Chamber]
For a heartbeat, silence strangled the room.
The words hung in the air like a blade suspended by a single thread.
"Lord Silas… is on his way to the Empire."
Callen's breathless announcement shattered the stillness, and Lucien's knees nearly gave out beneath him. His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven bursts, hands trembling as though he were holding lightning in his palms.
"Silas…" The name left him in a whisper, half disbelief, half prayer. His brown eyes filled with tears that glimmered under the lamplight.
Thoeram's face hardened, but his voice cracked despite himself. "Are you certain of this, Callen? Do not speak false hope to my child."
Callen shook his head quickly, his chest still heaving from the rush to bring the message. "It came from the border outpost. A scout saw his banner—black and silver, torn but still flying. They said he rides with a handful of men, moving fast toward the capital."
