The elegantly and meticulously decorated hall carried the familiar scent of "night sky" incense; the Wendell clan's "Iron-wolf Crest" hung on the pale gold pillars, and the midday sunlight streamed through the colored crystal windows on the south side into the hall, illuminating the portrait of Tilian Wendell hanging on the wall. In my memory, that forever dignified and powerful grandfather stood silently in front of our ancestral portrait, facing away from the door, seemingly lost in thought.
An attendant beside me wanted to step forward and report, but Andresha stopped the attendant. She walked into the hall alone and stopped a few meters behind Duke Ferdinand. The soft sunlight from Aldernon shone on the space between them, where tiny specks of dust danced like elves in the atmosphere.
"Grandfather, I've returned."
