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... ngely, Lucian was nowhere to be seen this morning.

Maybe off on another one of his secretive errands. Or maybe he'd just slept in. Whatever the reason, his absence meant breakfast was, surprisingly, uneventful.

No sarcastic jabs. No philosophical rambling. Just... food.

We didn't talk much. There was no need to. Isolde sipped her tea with her usual grace, while Mia absentmindedly pushed her eggs around on her plate, already mentally preparing for her next round of studies ...

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Ten years after his death a cultivator found his research journal and decided to further study this fascinating idea.

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