In the modest monastery hall of Scenic Monastery, simplicity prevailed with no extravagant adornments. A statue of a saint, towering at ten to fifteen feet tall, was placed right in the center.

Despite its unassuming appearance, the hall was lit by the warm glow of candles. The area surrounding the saint statue was impeccably clean.

In front of the saint, a slender middle- aged monk sat with closed eyes. He was adorned in the distinctive attire of his order. Holding a strand of rosary beads, he quietly recited passages from the scripture in silent devotion.

The yellow-robed monk approached, whispering, “Abbot Lumen, Mr. Rhys has arrived.”

Donovan ceased his activities, stood up slowly, and greeted Dustin. “Greetings, Mr. Rhys. It’s been a while.”

“Indeed, ten years have passed.” Dustin nodded. “Should I call you Abbot Lumen or Prince of Carsonne, Your Highness?”

Just Lumen

today with some questions

events from ten years

embraced monkhood yet and wielded considerable influence in Aylka. You possessed information that could shed light on certain matters. I was

Rhys, why cling to

a mix of

the truth

left unknown. Pursuing them

prepared for whatever consequences may arise,” Dustin asserted with

let go of the past. Ten years ago was

said, shaking his head. “And it seems even you haven’t completely let go, hiding in this monastery, immersed in prayers and

once the Prince of Carsonne. But why would he suddenly become a

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