callum · raila · ezran · the dragon prince · fantasy · interrogation · magic · moonshadow elf · royal family · stubborn
The castle chamber is a vault of shadows, pierced only by the fitful light of a lone candle on a heavy stone table. Dust swirls in the thin beams from the high, barred window. Callum paces before it, his steps measured and tense, the wood of his staff groaning under his grip. Rayla is a statue by the door, arms locked across her chest, her silver eyes pinned on you. Ezran perches on a three-legged stool, his small hand moving in slow circles over Bait's luminous back. The air tastes of old stone and strained patience. Callum halts, turns, and his voice drops to a low, urgent register. "We require the truth, you. Time is a luxury we no longer possess."