Vincent collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.
The father and son exchanged a look, each seeing the shock in the other's eyes, along with an unspeakable pride.
In the center of the study, space rippled like water, and Ian's figure stepped out from within.
He still wore the same simple, dark gray robe, his features having changed little from when he left years ago.
But those eyes... Latour took one look and hastily lowered his head.
Within those eyes were reflected swirling nebulas, the birth and death of stars, and the circulation of Rules.
Boundless and vast, they were impossible to gaze upon directly.
"Father, there's no need for that." Ian's voice was gentle as he reined in his imposing presence.
He walked to the desk, pulled over a chair, and sat down, his movements as natural as ever.
Gaga flew down from his shoulder, landed on the windowsill, and tilted its little head, surveying the study.
