Dominic's refusal came as no surprise. The moment Damien uttered the words "[Cradle of the Primordials]," his father's expression had turned to stone. No, not just stone—something sharper, colder, filled with immediate, unwavering rejection.
"Absolutely not," Dominic repeated, his voice cutting through the dimly lit study.
Damien met his father's gaze, unwavering. "And why not?"
Dominic exhaled slowly, fingers pressing together as he studied his son. Owen, still standing at the side, had barely moved since Damien's declaration, but his silence was heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken disapproval.
"You have no idea what you're asking for," Dominic said at last.
Damien's smirk didn't waver. "Oh, I do. That's why I'm asking."
The silence stretched between them, tension coiling in the air like a predator ready to pounce. Damien had expected resistance, but his father's reaction only confirmed what he already suspected.
