Dante sat in his study, a low golden light flickering across the obsidian walls. The room was quiet. He tried to focus on the parchment before him, the endless reports and petitions from the Nightshade Court, but his mind kept slipping elsewhere. It was an unfamiliar feeling in his chest, something missing, something he couldn't name.
He frowned, shaking his head slightly. Absence? The thought annoyed him. He never allowed such emotions to take root. Feelings, to him, were distractions, dangerous and unpredictable. Yet lately, every time his mind quieted, it wandered toward the warmth of a smile, the sound of soft laughter that echoed in his memory like light filtering through shadow.
Before he could think further, a small voice broke the silence.
"Dad!"
He looked up immediately. Sable came running in, holding a book nearly bigger than himself, his little horns gleaming faintly in the light. The sound of that word, Dad, softened something deep inside him.
