Lechlian stared at his son as if seeing him for the first time.
There was malice, yes.
Venom and contempt, certainly.
But this… this hatred burned too deep, ran too wide. It wasn't just a rebellion of a son against his father, it was the very denial of any link with his family.
He shook his head slowly, confused, voice a low rasp from thirst and chains.
"You hate me, that much is clear. Gods know, I know it too. But your mother?" His brows furrowed. "Has your blood soured so bitter that you must spit it even at her? At something so… gentle?"
Thalien laughed. A short, bitter bark that echoed with mockery and scorn.
"Gentle?" he repeated, incredulous, as if the word itself offended him. "With me?" His laughter grew louder, twisted with something dark. "You really are as blind as I made you, old man."
The laughter died on his lips, and what replaced it was pure, unaltered hate.
His smile faded, and a sneer curled up one side of his face like a scar.
