Lathunis glanced at Avanid on her shoulder nervously and then back at the tube inside her hand. The cap was the same smooth metal as the rest of the cylinder, but looking at it created a pit in the bottom of her stomach. She knew by Avanid’s reaction that the eyes inside of this tube would not create happy feelings for her – that could mean only one thing. Her father’s eyes were inside of this tube. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and slowly removed the lid from the tube. Her eyes still closed, she empty the tubes contents into her hands. She felt the warm presence of the round eyes in her hand and slowly cracked her own. There, in her palm, lay her father’s eyes. They had the same glint that they had held while he was alive, she could see the man he was before his ending years of corruption. She had to stop herself from letting a tear escape her eye. Lathunis had to steel herself quickly for what came next. 

A cold, silver knife appeared in her hand, shimmering in the light of Krona. The cold blue of Aroseus’ eyes almost matched the knife’s silver sheen. Her own eyes were so different, warm and gold. Changing her eyes felt like changing that which she was. But she had to do it, not for herself, but for Avanid, her mother, her father, and most of all those of the mortal realms that had no one loyal enough to stand up for them. With one quick movement, almost imperceptible, she cut her eyes from their sockets and let them float softly in the air in front of her. Aroseus’ eyes, held in her left hand, were quickly placed in her empty sockets. The feeling of the foreign eyes brought Lathunis to tears, the last few emotions of Aroseus’ life quickly rushing into her essence. She fell to her knees, gasping.