Parker didn't know what the hell to expect when he walked into the living room. Chaos? Probably. Coexistence? That would've been luxury. But what he got wasn't either. It was stillness—unnerving, dead still. Not the kind of quiet that brings comfort, but the kind that makes you wonder who's pretending to be calm first. Like a storm paused mid-scream.
The Origin Families had taken their grand dramatics to the throne hall, leaving the real mess behind—his inner circle, his headaches, and his legacy. And now, every important piece on his board sat in that room, orbiting around silence like it was the only thing holding them together.
He appeared at the top of the staircase, Nyxavere at his side. The white of her dress shimmered faintly in the mansion's low light, her tiny hand wrapped around his like she'd never planned to let go. Parker's presence didn't come with weight—it came with absence.
