Chapter 55 Different Form

• Friedrich's POV
• The ancestral hall is little different from it has always been-cold, spacious, and apathetic to the tumult we introduce into its walls. The long oak table in the centre stretches nearly the entire length of the room; the polished surface reflected the midday light spilling through the high windows. The massive hearth along the wall crackles faintly, the heat doing little to reach the edges of the hall. Around the table, we’re gathered in a loose circle, but no one looks particularly comfortable.
• Bertha stands with her arms crossed, her chin high, and a storm brewing in her eyes. Beside her, Snow, Reggie, and Cara look worn down, their faces pale but resolute. Across from them, Victor leans forward onto the table, his dark eyes scanning each and every one of us, the usual calmness weighing heavier today. Agnes and Lyra sit to his left, their faces sharp and analytical, while Mrs. Laquel says nothing, her eyes fixed on her daughter.