In the royal palace of Dartmouth, lightning flashed outside, casting fleeting bursts of light through the dimly lit chambers. The brief illumination made the grand interior appear all the more ominous, with the air heavy with tension.
Jareld stood before Prince Valen in his room, as he reported the incident regarding Sylvie's failure in the mission the prince had assigned her concerning Ivan.
Valen lounged leisurely on the sofa of his room, swirling a glass of wine in his hand. He clicked his tongue in disappointment at his failed attempt to keep Prince Ivan away from his golden bird.
"And what else, Jareld? Is she alive?" Valen asked carelessly.
"She appears to be in a coma at the moment, Your Highness," Jareld replied.
"Ah, I see…so she decided to sleep after failing at her task, did she?" Valen mused, his tone laced with mocking amusement.
