The silence of the Northern estate at dawn wasn't a peaceful thing. Not even a little. It felt heavy, like something was sitting on your chest, swallowing even the sound of the wind rattling the windows.
"Father... please."
The whisper was rough, stripped of all the Duke's usual deep, commanding voice. Then came a sharp, uneven breath that sounded way too close to a sob. "No... mother, don't..."
Cherion stirred, his brain dragging itself out of a dream about fluorescent lights and instant ramen from a convenience store, leftovers from a life that now felt less like something he lived and more like a movie he half-remembered.
He blinked, the darkness slowly turning into the familiar, suffocating luxury of Zarius's bedroom. Beside him, the sheets were completely wrecked, silk twisted like they'd just lost a fight.
