he stone walls. A maid entered, holding a tray of bread and water. Her eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and sympathy.

t of polished wood and leather. As they approached a grand wooden door, Amara's hear

ny desk behind which Lucian sat, his expression inscrutable. His gaze was fixed on a stack of documents, his dark eyes shadowe

uette against the sunlight. His presence was a quiet st

int, ethereal light. Her breath caught, eyes wide as panic swept through her. She

d whisper. "I don't want to go back. I'll do

in her gaze was softened by an undercurrent of compassion. "It's alright," she

f curiosity in his eyes. Thorne's stance remained rigid, thoug

reassurance. "I-I don't understand," she sta

ed up a delicate cup from Lucian's desk and extended it toward Amara. "Tr

er brows furrowing in effort. The cup remained unmoved, sitting stubbornly on the polished d

ssion a blend of concentration and concern. "It's alright if it doesn't work right

usion evident in her posture. Her gaze flitted between Elara and

ed through his eyes. He was keenly aware of the mark's glow and its implications, though he kept his expression guarded

"My Lord, Amara needs help awakening her inner power. With

t Amara, his gaze a mix of scrutiny and skepticism. "Very well," he said finally. "If you

. She turned back to Amara, her eyes softening. "I will h

," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "I feel s

ing. "We will uncover the truth together. For

n's gaze followed them for a moment longer, a storm of emotions he refused to acknowledge. The bond he shared with Amara

e turned back to the window, his expression a mask of contemplation. The undercurrent of

all. Amara's steps were slow, her mind racing with questions and fears. Yet, as she walked alongside Elara, there was a glimmer