Cyrus hummed “The Lover and the Dreamer” as he meandered through the halls, the tune bouncing and echoing across the Castle’s walls. A fitting song for the grand place, though rather dark; dedicated to loss, and how it left its mark.

Two gods, born of Ouza and Laut, intertwined in love, but fractured from a hateful bout. Dreams could not hold true to Love’s noble sway, and a lust for vengeance drove a brutal fray. Hero and Ancient clashed where a Dreamer once slept, and lo, the Lover, lost and shattered, she wept.

But alas, life was such; few could ever escape its precocious clutch. Even gods bent to fate and fortune’s forceful whim, and wow, a strangely poetic feeling had struck him.

Perhaps it was all the lovelies he could see? Possibly, likely, it could most certainly be, maybe he should check if Fergus was free? The lycanthrope could certainly be a lot, but damn if the man wasn’t hot.

But no no, he had a task to do, one he’d set, one he’d see through, for children were important, deeply so, and it pained him to learn of a history he’d never know. His daughter, and what a thought that was to think, had appeared before him with nary a wink, pulling him straight towards a familial brink.

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So while Julius galavanted with his sweet paramour, Cyrus strode through a grand library door to see what sights his child did explore, at a table amongst large tomes galore.

An elemental sat right by her side, studying and buzzing with skin electrified, as Mira read a simple little book, teaching her student of words and where to look. So Cyrus sat across from his kin, smiling with good humor and asking where she’d been, to which Mira replied with a tone rather dried that she was acting as sweet Lightning’s tutor and guide.

So interesting to know, and his curiosity did grow, yet he needed to get on with his planned show, so plans were explained as he wracked his brain, thinking of a way to share his daughter’s pain.

The monster was out there, as they both knew, and she would not die easy, that much was true, so Cyrus offered his aid in such a quest, only for Mira to deny any help at her behest. The task was hers and hers alone; she was not a child, but a woman grown.

Cyrus still wanted to help her though, but a question from Lightning interrupted their flow, and so...the topic did drop, yet for the once reckless bard, his drive did not stop.

Even if Mira refused his request, his mind would not still, did not rest, for he had a stake in her vengeance too; it was his own daughters that Lovalde tortured and slew.

So what may come, even at its worst, Cyrus would help-

For Family came first.