"Happy birthday, Klaus."
Alexandra placed a carefully wrapped package at the foot of the platform, next to the other gifts that had accumulated throughout the day. Fourteen years old today, though the boy on the platform showed no awareness of the passage of time. His silver hair had grown longer over the year of unconsciousness, now reaching well past his shoulders. His face remained unchanged—youthful features locked in perpetual stillness, neither aging nor deteriorating under the preservation runes' protection.
One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days since the Council of Monarchs had reached their compromise. Three hundred and sixty-five daily visits to this twilight chamber, watching, waiting, hoping for any sign of change.
