As the vision shifted and the dark forest of Kyrell spread before Liam's eyes, the familiar scene made something deep within him stir. The whisper of the trees, the faint hiss of mist crawling across ancient roots—every detail was burned into his memory. He remembered how it all began… how he'd first stepped foot into that forsaken place after his grandfather's death, carrying only vengeance and sorrow. For a fleeting second, that memory threatened to drown him. But then, with a slight grimace, Liam pushed it away, forcing his thoughts elsewhere.
He turned his gaze toward Aesmirius, who hovered beside him in ghostly calm. "Wait a minute," Liam said, his tone flat, though curiosity lingered beneath it. "Before you keep going on with whatever is next, tell me—am I a descendant of yours?"
Aesmirius didn't turn his head. His voice came, steady and detached. "Yes, you are."
