A hush fell over the grand hall. The king descended the dais, his steps slow, his breath uneven. He moved as if in a trance, his sharp eyes never leaving Lyra. The moment he reached her, he lifted a trembling hand and cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. His own face, strong and regal, contorted with emotion as his eyes filled with unshed tears.
“It’s her,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “It’s my child.” A tear slipped down his cheek. “She’s returned to me.”
The gasps in the room turned into murmurs, but the king paid them no mind. His gaze remained locked onto Lyra, drinking in her features as though memorizing every detail.
Darios took a calculated step forward, his expression unreadable but his mind already working. “How can you be so sure, Your Majesty?” he a
