The heavy thud of the convoy's departure lingered behind them, muffled beneath the growing stir of Virencia's waking streets. Yet for Commander Alec, the sound faded quickly, replaced by the tightening in his chest. His eyes followed the dwindling silhouette of his daughter before slowly turning to Saint Cynthia, who stood beside him in a rare moment of quiet.
He cleared his throat.
"Your Holiness, if I may… since you're here already," his voice was firm, but not forceful. "I wanted to ask something."
Saint Cynthia glanced at him with a composed, almost unreadable calm.
"It's about the boy," Commander Alec said. "Luke. What he said earlier—it didn't sound like an order, didn't sound like it came from you. But I need to know... did he see something? Or more importantly… did you?"
Her expression didn't shift. If anything, her serene smile barely wavered.
"Yes," she said simply. "I saw it too. I saw Luke in Govean. Helping people. Bringing hope."
