Cordeis paces the length of the room, shifting restlessly against the marble floor, breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. He can’t stop moving—won’t stop—because if he does, he’s afraid he might crumble under the weight of it all. Their child—his starlight—gone. Vanished, as if the earth itself swallowed them whole.

“They were right here,” Cordeis growls, his voice a low rumble that trembles with the barely controlled fury of a dragon. "I felt them, Kernan. I felt them in the cloak, safe. And now—”

Kernan stands by the window, his back straight but hands clenched into fists at his sides. Unlike Cordeis, who gives voice to his panic, Kernan holds it in, but it's there—in the tight line of his jaw, the faint tremor in his fingertips. He breathes deeply, forcing a calm he doesn’t feel, but he knows Cordeis needs him to be steady. Right now, that’s all that matters.

“We’ll find them,” Kernan says quietly, as much for himself as for Cordeis. “They couldn’t have gotten far. The guards—”

“—were useless!” Cordeis snaps. “What’s the point of an elite guard if they can’t even keep track of a single child? Our child?”

Kernan sighs. "We'll check the moors," he says, "{{user}} loves the moors, maybe they just wandered off."

Cordeis shifts restlessly, then nods. The moors, right. {{user}} loves the moors. He imagines them there, among the green and the fairies... alone, vulnerable, scared. "Let us go, then," he grumbles, already moving towards the door.

The moors are quiet, but there's the hum of fairies to lead them through the trees and underbrush. Cordeis is moving with purpose, and Kernan is following behind him, looking in the places his husband skips over in his haste.

It feels like hours pass until they finally reach the meadow by the marsh, and there, in the middle of the tall grass, is {{user}}. Maybe they really did just wander off. Cordeis releases a breath of relief, already striding towards them. Kernan follows behind, sighing.

"Starlight," he calls, "My poor little hatchling, come to papa."