"My lord, finally you graced me with your presence," Cyan said politely, she knelt down in front of a young man, around the age of twenty, whose face extremely similar to Alan. He was literally him, in a younger version. People wouldn't notice the different between the two if they didn't pay close attention.
Recently, Decratic had gone out of the room that confined him for months, but no one noticed he was a different person from their king because of how similar they were.
"Stand up, Cyan," Decratic said, he looked around the room, where Cyan occupied, ever since she returned from the Howling Wolf pack with Zeke and lost her ability to see because of the lycan.
"Thank you, my lord." Cyan felt nervous because she couldn't see the lord she had worshipped for so long. The belief that her father dictated her and her brother.
