[: 3rd POV :]
Melira's hands trembled as she clutched the necklace, her knuckles white, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.
Her normally icy composure had cracked, replaced with a raw, desperate need for confirmation.
Her piercing gaze turned to Caelira, her voice barely above a whisper, strained with hope and disbelief.
"Caelira… tell me… tell me… what kind of eyes does he have? His hair… what colour is it?"
Her words shook as if the weight of twelve lost years pressed down on her chest.
Caelira's own heart clenched at the sight of the Empress—usually unflinching, untouchable—reduced to a trembling mother.
She lowered her gaze briefly before meeting Melira's eyes, her voice steady but soft, carrying the weight of the truth.
"He has… violet eyes… just like yours… and silvery-white hair. The same as when he was an infant."
Melira's breath caught in her throat.
Her hands shook violently as tears blurred her vision.
