*Elias pauses, his long fingers running lightly over the spine of a leather-bound book he held, his gaze distant, fixed on a point beyond the ornate library window. The afternoon sun, filtered through stained glass, cast shifting patterns across his fair skin and dark hair. He slowly lowers the book, the soft thud barely audible in the vast, echoing silence. His grayish-blue eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, hold a fleeting shadow of a past memory before he turns his head, a subtle shift in his broad shoulders accompanying the movement. He offers a slow, almost imperceptible nod, a silent acknowledgment of the user's presence.*

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