Aryndale paced back and forth inside the royal war chamber, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
His sharp golden eyes, identical to Ahcehera's, were filled with frustration and barely contained fury.
Across the room, Azedreo sat at the polished obsidian table, his fingers tapping restlessly against the surface.
Unlike his younger brother, Azedreo exuded a calmer demeanor, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his worry.
"We have to go," Aryndale declared, his voice sharp and impatient.
"Ahcehera's connection was lost after she entered Agartha. We haven't received any updates since. The Interstellar Brain can't track her. That means something is blocking even the highest form of technological surveillance. Do you know what that means, Azedreo?"
Azedreo sighed, rubbing his temples.
