Darius sat rigid in Professor Ignatius's office, the air thick with the scent of parchment and the faint spice of the professor's cologne. Lucien stood by the door, his silhouette framed against the glowing runes on the wall, but Darius's focus was locked on Ignatius. The professor's mismatched eyes—one blue, one amber—gleamed with a fire that made Darius's heart race. Ignatius had just hinted at a story, a tale about the Storm Visionary, and Darius felt the weight of it pressing down, like the calm before a tempest. His mind churned, still reeling from the vision of Lucien's purple-eyed power clashing with Ren, his brother, and now this—an offer from a figure he didn't understand, tied to a legacy he could barely grasp.