The silence in the throne room was suffocating.
Every elder, every mage, and every knight stared at Master Harond with expressions ranging from disbelief to fury. The king’s eyes widened at the declaration, his hand tightening on the gold-wrought armrest of his throne. Elira gasped audibly, while Dareth—face red and trembling—looked as if he’d just been slapped.
"You... what did you say?" The king finally spoke, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through the tension.
"I said I am adopting Kael as my son," Harond repeated firmly, stepping forward so that he stood between Kael and the throne. "He has no family. He needs guidance, not chains. I will take responsibility for him."
"You don’t have the authority to make that decision unilaterally!" Dareth barked, his voice laced with fur
