Winds rolled in from the high cliffs, sweeping over the Grand Mansion of the Drakonis family with slow, deliberate force. They threaded through spires and arches carved from stone older than most kingdoms, stirring banners that no longer flew in celebration. The mansion did not resist the weather. It endured it, the way it had endured centuries of war, births, and funerals that were never meant to be fair.
Above the docks, a cloudstrider descended.
Its vast hull cut through the mist like a moving shadow, engines humming low and steady as it adjusted its descent. Ropes unfurled. Metal groaned softly. The vessel settled with ceremonial care, as though even it understood that this was not a day for haste. Figures disembarked in silence, cloaks drawn tight against the wind, their faces set in expressions that carried no curiosity. Only purpose.
