Marcus stepped forward, the air around him beginning to shimmer with the sheer intensity of his rising body heat. His usual stoic mask had cracked, revealing a raw, jagged vulnerability. "Are you saying," he looked between the King and Linus, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and terror, "all of you... that there is a chance, however small, that my mother may be alive?" The King couldn't even look at his son. He was staring at his own hands, likely seeing the blood of a decade-long lie. I stepped into the space between them, speaking softly to ground the room before Marcus’s dragon-fire took hold. "I’m not sure, Marcus," I said, meeting his eyes with a steady, empathetic gaze. "We only know that the name on those transfers is a code formed by your parents to communicate. It could be a taunt, it could be a cruel coincidence... we are just trying to connect the dots. I don't want to give you a hope that might destroy you later." "But it's a lead," Sol rasped, his hand finding
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