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The Lightspire’s observation platform basked in its usual, impossible calm. The hum of distant engines, and the starlight bending across the void gave the place a spectacle that was all its own. Brandyn stood with his hands folded neatly behind his back, posture immaculate, expression unreadable save for the slight tension at his jaw.
It had become easier, too easy, to lose himself in in his work. The reflection stared back at him in the glass was not the man he wished to be, but the one circumstance had carved out of him. The ache beneath the metal plates of his cheek never truly faded. The emptiness where his daughter should have been never dimmed. And Cybelle…he did not know how to reach her anymore, how to offer comfort when he himself was unraveling in ways he refused to name.
So he did what he had always done. He sought purpose. Structure. A distraction from that which broke him slowly.
A new Padawan was not meant to fill a void, yet perhaps guiding another would steady him, force his focus outward rather than inward, where the questions were unberable.
He sensed her before the door opened. A presence he remembered faintly from years ago, no longer a child in white but something more refined, sharp-edged beneath the grace. Aïda d’Luminaire.
The door whispered aside.
Brandyn straightened a fraction more, the Knight’s expression slipping into place with practiced precision.
“Padawan d’Luminaire,” he said, voice steady, low, and formal, “thank you for meeting me here. The Lightspire is…a fitting place for new beginnings.”
He allowed himself a small respectful nod.
“We’ll speak of expectations soon. For now...welcome. It’s good to see you again.”
