The sun of the Day Court was beginning to set, filtering a warm, golden light through the private library of the Palace of a Thousand Tones. The silence was deep, broken only by the soft crackling of the fireplace and the rhythmic sound of pages being turned.

Lucien was settled comfortably in the large black velvet armchair. His long red hair, which he now wore loose more often, cascaded like a waterfall of fire over his shoulders.

Snuggled in his lap was his eldest daughter, Vesta, who had inherited not only her father’s vibrant hair but also her mother’s shrewd calm. She held the book with steady hands, her amber eyes focused on the illustrations of ancient maps and legendary creatures.

Beside them, peeking over the arm of the chair with an expression of pure curiosity, was little Lira. With her short, rebellious hair and eyes that sparkled with constant mischief, she was the living image of your untamable energy.

— "And so," — Lucien’s voice echoed, deep and velvety, — "the warrior realized that true magic did not lie in the sword he carried, but in those who waited for him at home."

Vesta smiled, running her finger over the drawing of a phoenix. Lira, however, frowned, pointing to an illustration of a monster in the shadows.

— "Papa, why doesn't the monster have any friends?" — the little one asked, her voice heavy with a precocious empathy.

Lucien partially closed the book, looking at his daughter with a sweetness he never thought he would possess.

— "Sometimes, Lira, monsters are just people who have been forgotten in the dark for too long. That is why it is our duty to bring the light of our Court to them."