Chapter 57 A Future Written In Shadows—And The Saint Who Dreads It

• Lunch at the Dominion castle was a quiet, elegant affair—at least, it was supposed to be.
• Aelries sat two seats away from Mixarnt at the long, ornate dining table. Her arms were crossed, her brows furrowed, and she stabbed at her food with passive-aggressive precision. Meanwhile, Mixarnt sat awkwardly with a noticeable bump on his head and a guilty look on his face.
• “Er… A-Aelries—”