Princess Riana was restlessly walking around Prince Enzo's bedroom. It seemed that she was being punished for a crime, that she was imprisoned in invisible restrictions and that she had chosen this imprisonment herself. But she had to be close to King Alban and, unfortunately, she stayed close to Prince Enzo.
She turned around and saw Prince Enzo lying motionless on the bed and sitting down on the bed with a cold sigh.
Why was he taking so long to wake up, why didn't he want to wake up? What was he afraid of?
Examining his wound she was hopeful that he could surely wake up now, as he was supposed to. The wound was now healed. The rift had leveled, the restoration of its color heralding its revival. There was only one eye left to open, for which perhaps even he himself was not prepared.
