With no clear plan laid before him, Luke did what he always did best—he moved. No grand strategy. No divine map etched in starlight. Just instinct, and a quiet tug in his chest.
"I should probably visit the Knights' hall," he muttered, more to himself than to Ilyrana.
Beside him, Ilyrana glanced his way, then gave a small nod.
"That's a good idea. They've been asking about you. And… a few of them might still be waiting for a proper thank you."
Luke chuckled under his breath.
"Wouldn't want to keep my fan club waiting."
And with that, they began their descent.
The stairs of the cathedral, lined with flowers blooming in carefully placed stone pots, spiralled downward from the high sanctum into the more lived-in heart of the city. The air grew warmer with each step, the sounds of life below beginning to fill the once quiet atmosphere around them—clinking armour, chatter from guards, the whistle of birds nesting in the cracks between buildings.
