Lucius stood amidst the swirling smoke, his eyes reflecting a profound, aching sorrow as he stared at Olivia's bloodied hands. For a few agonizing seconds, he had stood at the threshold of the chamber, watching his daughter strangle Cedric Allister with her bare, trembling hands. Yet, there was no disgust in his gaze—only an overwhelming, protective heartache.
He stepped forward, resting his heavy, armored hand on her head, gently caressing her hair with a father's touch.
"There is no wrong in what you have done, my sweet," Lucius whispered softly, his deep voice trembling. "You did well, my child."
