Shadow Priest Ak had not spoken for several seconds.
He simply sat there, watching.
His dark eyes moved slowly from Dante, to Alina, and then back again, as if he was asuring sothing invisible between them.
Finally Ak leaned back slightly in his chair, the faintest smile touching his lips. It was a knowing smile. The kind that said he understood sothing no one else did.
"Please," he said calmly, gesturing toward the seats across from him. "Sit."
Dante gave a small nod.
Without hesitation he lifted Lucien easily into his arms and sat down on the long couch, settling the boy on his lap. One arm wrapped naturally around Lucien’s small waist, pulling him closer in a protective, almost absentminded.
Lucien leaned comfortably against him, his small body fitting perfectly into the curve of Dante’s arm. He did not squirm or protest. He simply settled in like this was exactly where he belonged.
Alina sat beside them, and the mont she lowered herself onto the couch, Sable was already climbing into her arms, his body pressing against her warmth. His little hands grabbed at her sleeve, and he tucked himself against her side with a contented sigh.
The living room felt quiet, peaceful even. Warm firelight flickered softly against the stone walls, casting dancing shadows across the floor. The kind of quiet that felt like ho.
Dante’s gaze returned to Ak.
"Did you find it?" he asked directly, no preamble, no small talk. "Lucien’s second elent."
Ak smiled slowly.
"Yes."
Lucien straightened slightly on Dante’s lap, his dark eyes turning toward the priest with sharp interest. The word had caught his attention completely.
Ak rested his chin lightly against his fingers as he studied the boy, his gaze thoughtful and assessing.
"He carries elents from his mother as well," the priest said thoughtfully. "Not only power... but her traits too. They run deep in him."
Lucien’s small hands tightened slightly in Dante’s sleeve, a subtle reaction that most would have missed.
Dante did not miss it.
"What traits?" he asked calmly, his voice even.
Ak’s eyes softened slightly, warmth entering his usually neutral expression.
"Honesty," he said.
"Purity of heart."
"Wisdom beyond his years."
His gaze remained on Lucien for a mont as he spoke, clearly referring to the boy’s real mother, the woman who had given him life and then passed into mory.
Lucien’s eyes lit up instinctively at the words. A small spark of sothing, pride, perhaps, or connection to a mother he barely rembered.
But instead of looking at Ak, instead of acknowledging the priest’s words about his birth mother, he turned his head and looked up at Alina.
As if seeking her approval. Her pride. Her warmth.
Ak noticed.
But he did not comnt. His expression remained neutral, but sothing flickered in his dark eyes.
Dante noticed too.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, there and gone in an instant.
"Lorenzo would have been happy to see his son like this," Ak added quietly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth now. "Happy and healthy. Loved. Protected."
Lucien fell silent at the na.
He knew it.
He had heard it before, in quiet conversations, in whispered ntions, in the way adults sotis spoke carefully around certain topics.
Ak was speaking about his real father. The one who had died before Lucien could truly know him.
But the boy’s small body did not move closer to the priest’s words. He did not lean forward with curiosity or ask questions about the man he had never t.
Instead he leaned back slightly into Dante’s chest, pressing himself against the only father he had ever truly known.
Lucien did not know much about Lorenzo.
He only knew one father.
Dante.
Dante’s eyes lowered slightly toward the child in his arms. For a brief mont sothing complicated passed through his expression. Gratitude. Grief. Love. All tangled together.
Then he simply nodded.
"Yeah," he muttered quietly, his voice rough at the edges. "He would have."
Ak watched that exchange with quiet understanding, his ancient eyes missing nothing.
"And Lorenzo would have been very pleased to see sothing else," Ak added casually, as if comnting on the weather.
Dante glanced up.
Ak’s eyes flicked briefly toward Alina, then back to Dante.
"You with the woman you love."
Sable imdiately looked up from Alina’s arms with great interest, his black eyes wide.
Lucien blinked, his attention snapping to Alina’s face.
Alina froze completely.
Her cheeks flushed warm. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. No sound ca out.
Dante, however, just chuckled softly under his breath, a low and genuine sound.
"I rember," he said.
Ak smiled faintly, clearly enjoying the mont.
"He used to tease you endlessly about being single," the priest continued, warming to his the. "Always saying you would die alone surrounded by shadows and paperwork. That no woman would ever put up with your brooding."
Dante shook his head with quiet amusent, his hand absently stroking Lucien’s hair.
"That sounds exactly like him. He never knew when to stop."
"For a good reason," Ak replied. "Your brooding is legendary."
For a mont the atmosphere felt strangely light. Warm. Almost like family.
Then Ak suddenly looked toward Alina, his expression shifting to sothing more serious.
"May I hold your hand?" he asked calmly.
Alina blinked, startled by the sudden request.
She glanced at Dante instinctively, seeking guidance.
Dante t her gaze. Sothing unreadable passed through his eyes, but then he nodded once. A small, subtle movent.
So she slowly extended her hand toward the priest.
Ak took it gently between his palms. His fingers were cool and steady against her skin, surprisingly soft for soone so ancient. He closed his eyes.
Then he began murmuring sothing quietly under his breath.
The language was old.
Ancient.
None of them could understand a single word.
The room fell completely silent.
Even Sable stopped moving, his small form frozen in Alina’s lap, watching the priest with wide eyes.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth.
One minute passed.
Two.
Three.
Five.
The flas danced. The shadows on the walls seed to hold their breath.
Then Ak opened his eyes.
A small, satisfied smile appeared on his face, warm and knowing.
Sable leaned forward curiously, staring at the gray ash-like markings on Ak’s forehead as if wondering whether they would move or change shape.
Alina pulled her hand back slowly, her skin tingling where he had held her.
"Well?" she asked cautiously, her voice slightly uneven. "What did you see? What was that?"
Ak looked at Dante first, sothing passing between them in silence.
"It seems your assumption was correct," he said calmly.
Alina blinked rapidly.
"What assumption?" she asked imdiately, sitting straighter. "What assumption? What did you assu? When did you assu it?"
Ak simply smiled that knowing smile again.
"That," he said lightly, standing up from his chair with fluid grace, "he will explain to you later. When the ti is right."
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