Both Avin and Henry rose to their feet when Theo gave the order to meet the prince. The command wasn't loud or demanding, just quietly certain — like something that didn't need to be repeated.
Henry obeyed first, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve before taking deliberate, measured steps forward. Avin, on the other hand, hesitated.
Theo hadn't moved. He stood there, rooted to the same spot, eyes steady on the empty air before him. It was strange — his stillness didn't feel hesitant; it felt intentional, like he was waiting for something.
Avin glanced between them. Should he move or stay?
Henry seemed to make that decision for him. He stopped beside Theo, standing shoulder to shoulder, waiting in silence. The room was thick with an unspoken tension, a hum that filled the space like a held breath.
Avin sighed quietly, running a hand through his red hair. "Fine, whatever," he muttered, and followed.
The moment he came close enough to Theo — it appeared.
A door.
