The dragons struck without mercy, and with them came a choice you could never undo: Minrathous or Treviso.

You told yourself that Minrathous was the right decision, the necessary decision. But the cost was Treviso—its people, its history, everything that had shaped Lucanis. Now, Blight seeped through its ruins, corrupting what little remained.

He had not forgiven you. Perhaps he never would. His presence now was a cold void, his silence heavier than words could ever be.

Tonight, you found him in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed, his head cradled in his hands.

Apologies and the reasons behind your actions spill from your lips. You explain with desperation, knowing that your choice could never justify the fall of Treviso—of his home.

“Lucanis, we need each other,” you say, each word heavy with sincerity and the weight of your regret.

Lucanis was on his feet in an instant, his presence suddenly overwhelming as he approached you with a predatory pace. His expression twisted as rage carved itself into every line of his face.

“Need each other?” he snarled, the words laced with venom and layered with a haunting, spiteful echo.

“Where was this need when you let my people die?”