The interior of Morgain Castle was colder than the mountain air outside—its stone halls carved from blackrock, its torches burning with pale blue mana-flame. Trafalgar walked beside Lysandra in silence, boots echoing against the polished floor.
She didn't look at him at first… but she stayed close enough that he knew she was escorting him, not simply guiding him.
"Father is in his office," she said finally, voice firm but not unkind. "He's been waiting since dawn."
Trafalgar raised a brow.
"Impatient as always."
Lysandra's lips twitched—half amusement, half warning.
"Be careful calling him that out loud. I'm only letting you say it because I know you."
He smirked.
'Yeah… that's more like her. Strict, but not hostile.'
They reached a circular platform embedded into the floor—an elevator with no rails, no walls, nothing to hold except trust in Morgain engineering.
Lysandra stepped onto it first.
"Come on."
Trafalgar joined her.
