Aelion’s silver eyes narrowed as he regarded the her, his gaze both assessing and wary. He carried himself with the poise of centuries, yet a subtle tension betrayed his unease. “So,” he said, his voice calm but edged with disapproval, “the one I’m to mentor was first shaped by him.” He paused, the weight of the prophecy heavy in his tone. “You may carry their influence, but you stand at a crossroads now. I will not tolerate recklessness—or the taint of his teachings.”
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