Three sharp knocks echoed through the heavy oak door before Zeke's voice boomed from within. "Enter."
Fenix stepped into his father's private study, a chamber that radiated authority from every surface. Ancient tomes bound in leather lined towering shelves that stretched to the vaulted ceiling, while weapons from forgotten eras hung crossed on walls that had witnessed centuries of family decisions. The massive desk at the room's center was carved from a single piece of ironwood, its surface bearing the accumulated weight of documents that shaped regional politics.
Zeke sat behind this monument to power, his imposing frame making even the oversized furniture seem appropriately scaled. Despite his intimidating presence, his expression carried the warmth that belonged to private family moments rather than official business.
"Sit, son," he said, gesturing toward a chair that had been positioned directly across from his own. "We have much to discuss."
