I watch Thorne, standing tall in his navy blue attire, looking every bit the son of Celia. There's no denying the resemblance—he has her sharp features, her regal bearing—but there's something about him that sets him apart. His blue eyes are cold, too cold for comfort, and the aura that surrounds him is unsettling. Anyone who came near him could feel it, that oppressive force, making the air heavier, more dangerous. He doesn't need to speak for people to know that he's not someone to cross.