Vyan led Eryndor into the dimly lit room where Aster sat. The walls were lined with thick curtains that barely let the sunlight seep through, casting the space in a somber hue.
Aster's figure was hunched in a chair near the window, his once-powerful and confident aura now frail and diminished. His red hair, though long and unkempt, glimmered faintly in the muted light.
Master Jin sat cross-legged beside Aster as his gnarled hands worked methodically to prepare the thin acupuncture needles.
"Do not speak abruptly," Jin said, his deep voice reverberating softly through the room. "Let him feel the presence before you demand anything."
Eryndor stepped forward slowly, his usual authoritative air subdued. For once, his presence wasn't commanding but tentative. His eyes softened as they fell on Aster, tracing the lines of the face he hadn't seen in sixteen years. His hand instinctively reached out before curling into a fist, uncertain.
