As the vision had passed, after his body had finally given in to exhaustion, there had been a lingering tension in him that refused to fully loosen, like his mind remained caught somewhere between the present and whatever he had seen.
Lucas stayed until the king's breathing steadied, until the sharp lines of strain on his face softened just enough to suggest rest rather than unrest, though even then, there was no true peace in it.
He stood beside the bed for a moment longer, watching him carefully, his expression far more serious than the careless ease he usually wore, before finally stepping back.
The room felt different now, quieter but heavier, as though the weight of what had been spoken still lingered in the air.
"Chaos is coming," Lucas muttered under his breath, his tone low and thoughtful as he rubbed a hand lightly against his jaw, wincing faintly as the movement tugged at his injuries. "That is not exactly comforting."
—
