Soren let out a long, heavy breath, the kind that carried things no man could easily name. He leaned back in the chair, watching his brother in silence for a moment,who was still staring at the dying embers in the hearth.
Valerian hadn't spoken for a while.... His broad shoulders were tight , his jaw set, his fingers curled around the rim of his cup as though he wasn't sure whether to drink or crush it.
Soren knew that look. It was the look Valerian wore only when the storm inside him was loud.
He and Daeron had worn it too many times.
"We both know what you're fighting in there," Soren murmured at last. " Brother, Soren called him, settling back into his chair, "you're carrying too much again. I can feel it, it's radiating off from you."
Valerian didn't look up.
Soren continued, "The rage. The bloodlust. The pull of the Stormborne bloodline. That's why we're called stormbornes."
