Kafrik watched his father, who hadn't spoken for a long while.
He didn't dare utter a word, afraid that one wrong sound might make his father snap.
So he stayed silent, motionless.
The air between them felt heavy, almost alive with the weight of unspoken words.
His father's eyes were distant, fixed somewhere far beyond the walls of the room, lost in thoughts Kafrik couldn't read.
Every small sound in the room seemed too loud, too sharp.
Kafrik's hands tightened on his knees as he waited, hoping his father would say something, anything, to break the suffocating stillness.
After some time, Ravan's eyes regained their focus. They were cold, glacial even, but beneath that chill lurked something else, a flicker of dread that Kafrik failed to notice.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Ravan finally broke it.
"So," he said quietly, "I assume the cripple is at the academy?"
"Y… yes," Kafrik replied, his voice timid, like that of a subdued animal.
