The Vortellion estate stood quiet that evening, its looming towers bathed in the pale glow of moonlight. Somewhere deep in the west wing of the mansion, behind thick walls lined with ancient books and polished glass, Julian Vortellion sat hunched in his private study, his fingers flipping through old parchments and newer scrolls with distracted precision.
The fireplace crackled beside him, casting shadows over the elegant, obsidian wood furniture.
Close to the study door stood Dorian, silent and unmoving like a statue. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and always wearing that grim, watchful expression, he fulfilled his role
Julian sighed, tapping a finger against the paper. Dorian's gaze slid briefly toward the noise, but he didn't move. Not that Julian expected him to. After all, Lucien had tasked him with this.
"Watch him. Keep him safe. Keep our father far from him."
