As the heavy black doors clicked shut behind Raven, the air inside the Patriarch's chamber remained dense, loaded with unsaid words.
Randolf stood like an ancient statue behind Argon, silver eyes still faintly gleaming with the residue of his ability.
'I didn't have to use it, did I?'
He activated it on instinct, as whenever Argon asked anyone a question, he found out whether they were lying.
But today, he didn't need to do it.
'Does he care for the youngest?' He wondered, his expression turning thoughtful. 'Even after that incident?'
He could clearly remember how sad Argon was at that time, and he recalled how, for the first and the last time, Argon had shed a tear.
As he stared at Argon's back, now resting on his throne-like chair, his eyes closed, Randolf sighed.
'I don't know what you would do this time, brother...'
Argon, on the other hand, didn't move.
He sat unmoving, his eyes closed, until his brows twitched.
Then—
Tap-Tap-Tap.
