Motherly duty
In a luxurious restaurant overlooking the shimmering waters of Vitra's port city, Thorne sat at a table adorned with fine china and crystal glasses, waiting with a sense of unease. The air was filled with the enticing aromas of gourmet dishes and the low hum of conversations, but his mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts of Noelle and the relentless search for answers.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and a hush fell over the room as a striking older woman stepped inside. She exuded an undeniable grace, her presence commanding attention. Her raven black hair was intricately styled, showcasing the elegant curves of her neck and the delicate features of her face. But it was her eyes—deep blue and piercing—that drew Thorne in; they were the same shade as his, echoing the familial bond that tied them together.